Another's Favor
by ebhg
Summary: To fortify Nemeth's ties with Camelot after his rescue, Rodor offers Mithian's hand to the one man Arthur respects above all others. For power comes not with rank, but from one's connections. AU from Another's Sorrow, taking Series 5 where I wish it had actually gone. AKA, Where the Heck was Magic and Albion When I Wanted Them!
1. Truce

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

*****Spoilers: Series 1-4 and 5x01-04, plus elements of other Series 5 episodes twisted to my own purposes.*****

**Summary:** To fortify their ties after his rescue, Rodor offers Mithian's hand to the one Arthur respects above all others. For power comes not with rank, but from one's connections. AU immediately following Arthur's duel with King Odin in Another's Sorrow.

**A/N:** As Odin's lands/Kingdom is unnamed, I'm taking creative license and calling it Meredor, as the BBC's map of Camelot has Odin's lands on the Great Sea of Meredor.

Happy birthday to my mom and beta for this story, Oma13. :)

**Truce**

_"So be it. A truce... it is."_

Merlin could hardly contain his relief that Odin had agreed to Arthur's demand for truce. A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders and he sagged, unable to stop the trembling in his muscles. Merlin's mind whirled; he felt lightheaded and nearly giddy with the realization of how close things had been. Not to death, no, that had never been the warlock's real concern. When he and Arthur had been cornered, Merlin had been on the verge of revealing his magic to defend his king from Odin's unrelenting chase. But Odin's own pride in conjunction with Arthur's skill with a blade had preserved Merlin's secret for yet another day.

Odin's men slowly relaxed their tense postures and completely stood down in light of the newly formed truce. Several of them planted their swords into the ground while others sat heavily, utterly spent after their intense pursuit of the king of Camelot and his manservant. Merlin struggled to maintain his stoic expression as he watched the others around him. With as fragile and new as this truce was, it didn't seem prudent to show how completely exhausted and overwhelmed he was. Even though the soldiers surrounding them had ceased their attack, Merlin and Arthur were still largely outnumbered. The warlock crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to hide their trembling. His mind was still processing everything; he took several slow, steady breaths in an attempt to calm himself, consciously tamping down the magic he had pulled to the surface, ready to defend Arthur from Odin's band of soldiers.

Odin himself exhaled a deep breath; Merlin could see the man straighten with subdued dignity, as though a great burden was lifted from the King of Meredor's shoulders. Odin and Arthur began to converse then, and Merlin dimly realized as he tried to follow their words that his ears were buzzing rather distractingly. His throat was also still smarting from Morgana's magical choke hold. As it was, he nearly missed all of what the two kings were saying as they made plans to return to Camelot to make their new truce official.

Merlin wavered slightly on his feet, the only outward sign that his energy had just about given out. He fought to steady himself and remain standing. No doubt Arthur would call him a big girl if he fainted. Merlin scoffed to himself at the injustice of such a label, and not because women were weak. Morgana, Mithian and Gwen were all evidence to the contrary.

But Arthur would just as soon lump the warlock in with the simpering ladies of the court. Merlin was no dainty cushion-embroidering, hair-curling, giggling courtier. Damn it all, he had just run at least three miles to _save _Arthur and the knights from Morgana's trap after suffering a significant blow to the head and air deprivation only a couple hours before. Then he had used powerful magic to shake the very earth, further draining his energy stores. Not that he could explain as much to Arthur.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, pulling the manservant from his musings. Merlin blinked slowly, looking around him in bewilderment only to realize belatedly that he was sitting on the ground without the recollection of having done so.

"Arthur?" he asked confusedly, shaking his head to clear it. The king was looking at him with concern in his eyes but an amused smirk on his lips. Merlin glared at Arthur for a moment, knowing the girl comment was on the tip of the monarch's tongue. The concern in Arthur's eyes melted into relief as Merlin's indignation assured the king that Merlin ought to be fine with a bit of rest.

"Did you forget that you took a blow to the head this morning in your mad quest to save my life?" Arthur teased.

"If I said no, would you believe me?" Merlin chuckled wearily.

"I never believe a word that comes out of your mouth," Arthur jibed. Merlin grinned ruefully.

"See, that's your problem. You never listen to me," the manservant said as his king grasped his arm and hauled the thin warlock to his feet.

"Well your problem is that you never have anything to say worth listening to," Arthur said mockingly.

"I find that hard to believe," Odin interjected, looking between the two men before him. Arthur's face grew stern as he turned back to the King of Meredor.

"Be grateful that this time, I did listen. Merlin would be the first to tell you that I ignore him almost as often as I pay attention," Arthur said without humor. Odin immediately sobered.

"What of my men?" Odin asked, gesturing to the soldiers flanking him. "Are they to be your prisoners?"

"No, but I will allow you only two escorts to Camelot. No more," Arthur said firmly. Odin nodded in agreement and gestured to the two men closest to him.

"You two will be my escort. The rest of you will make for Meredor and send word to all camps that we are retreating from the border."

"Yes, My Lord," one of the men intoned, then turned to direct his comrades. Merlin and Arthur watched gratefully as the bulk of Odin's soldiers formed a line and disappeared into the trees.

"After you, Your Highness," Arthur said as he collected his sword and slipped it into its sheath, indicating that Odin should go first. "The rest of my men are following the ridgeline towards the ruins just on the other side of the border. We'll catch up with them and camp there for the night."

King Odin nodded grimly, resigned to following Arthur's authority for the time being. He was shocked though, when the king of Camelot swiftly reached out and grabbed the dark-haired man's arm, bending at the waist to sling the still wavering servant over his shoulder.

"Shall we?" Arthur asked, ignoring the sudden, indignant protests that Merlin gave as Arthur secured the squirming servant and gestured for Odin and his men to move out. The king of Meredor kept looking back at the unlikely sight, unable to understand why a king would do such a thing for a mere peasant.

"This is completely unnecessary, I can walk," Merlin repeated for the third time.

"And yet, I still don't care," Arthur replied. "Better this than peeling you off the ground when you pass out."

"Please, if I pass out, it's only because the blood has rushed to my head since you insist on carting me around like a deer carcass."

"Nonsense, if you were a deer carcass, I'd drag you. It's not a half-bad idea, actually," Arthur teased, eliciting a grunt from his manservant when he hefted him higher up onto his shoulder.

"You wouldn't dare, these are my best trousers!"

"If these are your best, I don't want to see your worst. Do us all a favor and burn them when we get back to Camelot."

"We don't all of us have kingly wardrobes."

"I still haven't excluded the possibility of dragging you, Merlin."

"If you do, I will sing all of Gwaine's favorite tavern songs as loudly as I can."

"Gods forbid. Has the blood pooled in your head enough to make you pass out, yet?"

"Obviously not, seeing as I am still talking to you," Merlin answered mulishly.

"Pity," Arthur commented, then grunted as Merlin's elbow dug into his back.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Merlin said with casual innocence. "Just trying to adjust myself a little better." Arthur merely heaved the thin man a little higher, being sure to jostle him thoroughly in retaliation and grinning when Merlin grunted again.

Much to Odin's amazement, Merlin kept up a constant stream of chatter, mostly complaining about the indignity he was being forced to endure. More surprising were the frequent insults directed at the blond king, who still insisted on keeping the young man slung over his shoulder. Nothing was safe from the servant's impertinence, not even King Arthur's intelligence nor his waistline. Yet all the young monarch did in reaction to the unkingly insults was roughly jostle the man slung over his shoulder and grin smugly when a grunt was forced from the servant, followed by yet more grumbling. Odin found himself rather relieved when the crumbling structure came into sight and Arthur finally allowed his servant to walk with the king's support. At least then the younger man's protests had finally been silenced.

* * *

When Mithian had first seen the ruins yesterday afternoon, she would not have described them as peaceful or calm, as they seemed to be now. It was little wonder that she had missed the quiet beauty of the crumbling, ivy-covered stone walls, considering she had been under Morgana's control and had been forced to lead her friends to what she had thought would be their deaths. The tension and guilt for her actions towards Camelot had sat alongside Mithian's worry for her father like a heavy stone in her gut. As they had camped amongst the ruins the first time, Mithian hadn't thought it possible for her sense of dread to grow. Then Merlin had nearly been killed because of her and Mithian couldn't believe the new level of anguish that she had felt.

But that was over, somehow, thanks to Merlin. Her father was safe and Morgana was gone. Where the witch had disappeared to, Mithian was uncertain. However, she _was _sure that Morgana would not be gone for long. Until that time, though, they had more pressing matters to deal with. Reclaiming Nemeth, for one.

"You are fairing well, but you should rest, sire," Gaius said after he had finished looking over King Rodor. Mithian shook off her inner worries and smiled at her father, giving his hand a squeeze. The princess nodded her head in agreement with Gaius before helping her father to a seat near the fire that the physician had asked the knights to build up.

"Thank you, Gaius," Mithian said, earning a smile from the elderly man.

"It is my pleasure, Prin- Merlin!"

Gaius' surprised exclamation startled Mithian; the princess whirled around and her heart pounded anew at the sight of King Odin entering the ruins flanked by two soldiers. As one, the knights of Camelot stood with swords drawn until a weary but welcome voice came from behind the king of Meredor.

"Stand down, all is well. He is with us."

"My Lord?" Leon asked. Arthur met his knight's eyes.

"We travel to Camelot at daybreak tomorrow to draw up an official truce between Meredor and Camelot," Arthur explained. Then Odin and his men moved to the side and Mithian finally saw what had caused Gaius' alarm. Though Merlin was on his feet, his left arm was slung over King Arthur's shoulder and the paler-than-usual manservant seemed exhausted. Mithian couldn't help the twinge of guilt that lanced through her when she saw the bruising still evident on Merlin's forehead and the unfocused look in his eyes. Gaius could hold back no longer.

"Merlin?! What did you do? Do you have no care at all for your own health?! Or _mine_ for that matter?"

"Please, Gaius, it's nothing, I'm just a bit tired," Merlin assured his mentor, even as Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Don't listen to him, Gaius. He nearly lost consciousness once we had everything at the tomb settled and I had to carry him most of the way here," Arthur argued. Merlin glared at his king, not bothering to check his expression, despite the gathering of nobles and knights surrounding them.

"_Had _to carry me?! I believe I protested that indignity. _Don't listen to him?!_" Merlin scoffed in mock-outrage. "Just what I need, someone else to ignore me, even though my funny feeling turned out to be not-so-funny after all," Merlin said dryly, raising his own eyebrow at his master, earning him another stern look from his king.

Arthur, though, was fighting a grin when he unceremoniously shoved Merlin down onto Gaius' makeshift patient's bed. Mithian covered her mouth with a gloved hand to hide her smile at the obvious rapport between the two men. There was little doubt that they were friends. That Arthur allowed Merlin to address him in such a manner spoke volumes to everyone gathered.

"I suppose you ran the whole way and haven't had anything to drink since?" Gaius asked Merlin, raising his eyebrow in his ward's direction.

"Gwaine did too," Merlin deflected obstinately.

"Yes, but _he _wasn't cracked in the head and strangled within an inch of his life this morning," Gaius argued. Merlin shrugged but did not try to refute the physician's words. Gaius made a grunting noise in the back of his throat and turned to the pot nested within the fire ring. Arthur punched Merlin in the shoulder, ignoring the servant's protests. The blond king moved off to gather his knights a small distance away from the main group, Mithian assumed, to receive their reports and give further orders.

Seeing Merlin finally relax into the bed as those around him were distracted, Mithian could not hold back any longer. She patted her father's arm reassuringly and made her way around the fire towards Merlin. The princess could feel her father's questioning gaze on her the whole way.

Mithian wasn't sure that her father would understand the draw that she felt towards the lanky manservant. She wasn't entirely sure that she understood it herself, especially after her most recent experience with Morgana. Nevertheless, Mithian had witnessed earlier what Merlin was; rather than scaring her, it made her incredibly curious.

She had been so terrified when Odin had pulled the sword back and made to separate Arthur's head from his shoulders. Mithian had averted her eyes, turning away from the imminent execution, only to catch a glimmer of movement across from where she stood with her father.

Merlin had stood there, a sword in his hands, seemingly unaffected by the injuries that Morgana had given him less than two hours before. Yet, Merlin did not rush foolishly towards Odin as Mithian had expected of the loyal manservant. Instead, Merlin's face had hardened into a fierce expression and he had lowered himself into a crouch. His lips had been forming words, Mithian was sure, but she could hear nothing from where she stood with her father. Then Merlin had hit the ground with an open hand, his eyes flashing the tell-tale gold of a sorcerer.

Then the tomb had begun to tremble.

Mithian was astonished. Magic was in the very heart of Camelot. None other than the king's own manservant and friend. The princess had remained frozen in shock amidst the shaking and the fighting until Merlin had shouted at them to come his way. Only then had her feet moved instinctually towards the promise of safety.

Then, to her further astonishment, when Odin's men had surrounded them in the forest, Mithian had found herself unarmed and clinging in fear, not to her father, but to _Merlin_. The princess had realized as she gripped his thin shoulders that she didn't care that the servant had magic. She was not afraid of him; she knew that he would never hurt her. So Mithian had resolved in that moment to never reveal Merlin's secret.

Now, as she approached the pallet quietly, her heart pounded inexplicably as she neared the dark-haired man. His breathing had evened out, and he looked to be on the verge of sleep. Mithian bit her lip, hating that he had suffered so for her cowardice and foolishness.

"Merlin," she called softly, not wanting to startle him. Merlin immediately opened his eyes and sat up.

"What can I do for you, Mithian?" Merlin asked, as though he wasn't under strict physician's orders to rest.

"No, no, you misunderstand!" Mithian insisted, pushing back on Merlin's shoulders and sitting down on Gaius' log beside the bed. Her hands tingled at the contact, and the princess wondered if she suffered some sort of compulsion to touch the servant. She blushed when she realized that she was still pressing down on his surprisingly muscular chest, as though holding him to the bed. Mithian hastily drew back her hands and clasped them in her lap to conceal their trembling before she cleared her throat and continued. "I do not wish to disturb you, Merlin."

The man in question grinned in amusement and raised an eyebrow at her words. Mithian blushed anew since disturbing him was _exactly _what she was doing. The princess looked down at her hands, plucking errantly at her gloves as she worked up the courage to say what she had come to say.

"I'm so sorry," she finally whispered, looking up to meet Merlin's eyes. The warlock's amused expression melted instantly.

"Mithian, you have no reason to be sorry," Merlin said kindly. Distantly, Mithian wondered when the servant had stopped addressing her by her title as propriety demanded, but couldn't find it within her at that moment to care.

"I have every reason to be sorry," she insisted, despite Merlin shaking his head in the negative. "I pulled you into _my _problem and Morgana almost killed you."

"Trust me, Morgana has wanted to kill me for some time. You didn't have to give her an excuse to hurt me; you are not at fault. In fact, if it wasn't for your message at the river, I wouldn't have known for certain that Arthur was headed for a trap. If I hadn't been injured and Gwaine and I had been with the others, we may not have been able to turn things in our favor when that tremor hit," Merlin reassured her.

"What made you suspect her?" Mithian asked suddenly, Merlin's casual reference to the mysteriously convenient earthquake reminding her of what she had seen. She had her suspicions of what had made Merlin uneasy around 'Hilda,' but it wasn't something that could be stated openly in present company. "No one else could see through her illusion. Yet you never seemed to trust her. Why is that?"

Merlin rose back to a sitting position, studying Mithian for a moment as though deciding how much to say.

"I could see fear in your eyes, Mithian," Merlin said gently. "There was something off between you and Hilda. You didn't seem at all like the Mithian I had come to know when first we met."

His answer stunned Mithian. She'd reasoned that he'd used some sort of mysterious magical ability to see through the witch's disguise. Yet Mithian realized that it was obvious now that he hadn't. Surely if he'd known by magic that Hilda was truly Morgana, the manservant would have said or done something sooner, rather than risking his king's safety outside of Camelot. Regardless of whether or not his magic had been the root of it, he _had _been suspicious of her unease with Hilda. Though Mithian hadn't known of Merlin's magic at the time, she had felt his eyes on her and Hilda through the entire journey. It was what made her approach _him _specifically that morning.

"Thank you," Mithian whispered, her voice hoarse as her eyes misted over at the thought of all she and her father had been through in the past week. Merlin smiled again, shaking his head.

"And I told you before, you have no need to thank me."

Mithian shook herself from her inward musings and smiled softly at Merlin's earnestness. It made her heart inexplicably warm to know that one short meeting three years prior had left such an impression on Merlin. Neither of them looked away in the ensuing silence, each of them studying the other. Mithian startled when her father coughed, only just realizing that she and Merlin had been leaning closer together than was considered appropriate. Mithian's blush deepened even further when she realized that she had been staring at Merlin's lips. Sitting back hurriedly, the both of them squirmed awkwardly until Mithian composed herself and gave Merlin a small smile.

"You remembered my character so perfectly that three years had not dimmed your memory enough to ease your suspicions?" Mithian finally asked, seeking a distraction from her embarrassment.

"You are a rather hard person to forget, Mithian," Merlin murmured with a gentle smile. Then his face reddened as he seemed to realize what he had just admitted to and he dropped his gaze to the tattered hem on his tunic. Mithian's own cheeks burned as she moved to study her hands. After a few more moments of semi-awkward silence, Gaius returned with a bowl of broth and a hunk of dry bread.

"Here, Merlin," Gaius instructed. "You must eat this slowly, we don't need you to expel it before it's had a chance to settle in and do you some good."

Merlin took the bowl and looked at the bland broth with obvious hesitation in his expression. However, Gaius knew his ward well and stood imposingly with his hands on his hips until Merlin gave in and began to slowly drink the broth and nibble at the bread. Mithian smiled in amusement at the expression on Merlin's face as he sipped at the bowl.

"What of Nemeth?" King Rodor's voice suddenly rang out, pulling Mithian's attention from the grimacing manservant.

"What of it?" Odin asked. Mithian knew then that Odin wasn't going to give up his newly conquered territory without argument.

"I cannot allow my people to remain under your rule," Rodor said, glaring cooly at Odin.

"And what heir do the people of Nemeth have to look forward to? Your son hasn't returned from his questing in four years. He's abandoned his claim to the throne of Nemeth," Odin argued.

"He expressed his desire to return home in his last missive and I intend to still have a kingdom to bequeath him when he returns!" Rodor growled.

"Gentlemen, we can take this discussion back to Camelot. For now, let us rest and prepare for our journey on the morrow," Arthur said, asserting his authority regardless of being decades younger than the kings he was meditating for.

Mithian turned back to Merlin as Odin stood petulantly and walked a short distance away from Arthur and her father. The manservant's energy was obviously waning. Gaius was smiling smugly at the younger man, taking the bowl from his ward's grasp as Merlin looked at the physician blearily.

"I thought that tasted funny," Merlin mumbled as Gaius caught the falling young man by his shoulders and eased him back into the bed.

"What's wrong with him?" Mithian asked, somewhat alarmed to see Merlin losing consciousness so rapidly.

"It's nothing, Your Highness," Gaius assured her, feeling his ward's brow with the back of his hand before covering Merlin with a blanket.

"Surely falling unconscious in such a manner is a bad sign? He did receive a blow to the head this morning?"

"I've just given him a mild sedative," the physician admitted once he saw Mithian's disbelieving look. The princess' eyes widened in comprehension, now understanding the look of betrayal on Merlin's face.

"Why would you need to sedate him, and in secret? Surely he understands the need to rest," Mithian asked.

"Merlin understands no such thing when it comes to himself," Gaius said with fond irritation. Mithian smiled and looked once more at the sleeping man, reaching out to lightly pat Merlin's hand as she stood and moved back towards her father. King Rodor smiled at her as Mithian once again took her seat beside him, listening to the ending of King Arthur's explanation of what happened when they had separated after the tomb.

"... we were cornered in a shallow ravine. Had Odin not demanded a single combat, we most likely would have been overwhelmed," Arthur explained.

"Single combat? Yet you are both still living and determined to follow through with a truce. How did that come about?" Rodor asked. Arthur looked over to Odin, who sat mulishly with his men away from the rest of the group.

"We _did _fight. I managed to subdue Odin after just a few blows," Arthur explained, his eyes focusing on a far off point. "He was on his knees and I was ready to kill him. I would have done so, were it not for Merlin. He convinced me to spare Odin and that peace was the better course of action," the king admitted, shaking himself from his reverie and looking back to the king of Nemeth.

"Merlin?" Rodor asked, unsure of how exactly Merlin fit into the situation. The lad wasn't dressed as a knight or even as someone of rank, but as a peasant. Yet King Arthur spoke of him as though the thin man had significant influence.

"My manservant," Arthur answered.

"Your _manservant_?! The young man who led us from the tomb was your manservant?" Rodor asked, looking in astonishment at the unconscious man under Gaius' care.

"Yes, though when or how he got there, I've no idea. We had left him behind here at the ruins with Gaius. He'd taken a heavy blow to the head..." Arthur trailed off, realizing that Merlin's clumsy nature was likely not to blame for his injury. Mithian confirmed Arthur's suspicions.

"I'm afraid that Merlin's injuries are all my fault," Mithian said softly. "I'd noticed he was not fully comfortable with our mission and that he did not seem to trust Hilda. As you know, she was actually Morgana under an aging spell. I managed to leave a message at the river and then asked Merlin to refill my water skin. Unfortunately, Morgana got to him before he could warn you."

Arthur nodded in understanding, looking towards Merlin.

"How then did he get to us?" Arthur asked. Gwaine joined them then, sitting down beside Arthur to offer the explanation the king sought.

"He woke up about an hour after you left, hellbent on getting to you, Arthur. Said you were walking into a trap."

"He saved my life," Arthur admitted. "When the ground began to quake, the battle in the tomb was resumed. I had just taken down a man when another came up behind me. He was poised to kill me, but Merlin ran him through from behind before the man could even swing his weapon."

"Your _manservant_ ran after you to warn you of the trap and saved your life when he _ran a man through_?!" Rodor asked, his disbelief growing.

"He did," Arthur confirmed. "It's not the first time he's saved my life, either. I owe him my life many times over, not that I'd admit it while he's conscious. I'd never hear the end of it."

"We all owe Merlin," Gwaine added, elbowing Arthur on Merlin's behalf. "Our sneak attack at the tomb today was actually his plan. He can be quite cunning when he needs to be. But he never asks for anything in return, either. That's what I like about Merlin."

The other knights joined them at the fire as Gaius served a light supper to everyone. Leon, Percival and Elyan told their own stories, confirming that Merlin had done something for each of them with little expectation of a reward.

"Is this man real?" Rodor asked, eyeing the unconscious man-in-question skeptically.

"Merlin's as real as they come," Gwaine chuckled. Mithian wholeheartedly nodded her agreement, unaware that her father was eying her speculatively.

* * *

Darkness fell over their small encampment as night came and one by one the gathered knights and kings bid all a good night until only the watchmen remained. Sirs Leon and Percival had once again surrendered their cloaks to create a private area for her, but Mithian could not bring herself to lay down to sleep just yet. She sat alone at the lowly crackling fire, eyeing the slumbering knights of Camelot with a small smile. Mithian was grateful that they had come out of Morgana's trap unscathed. Almost as grateful as she was that they hadn't held a grudge against her or her father for their part in Morgana's plan.

The princess' eyes scanned the campsite, only to find and lock onto Merlin again. Though she had moved away from him after he'd fallen asleep, she had kept a surreptitious eye on the manservant throughout the evening. He seemed so normal and common while sleeping that Mithian was having a hard time reconciling what she had thought she knew of Merlin with the otherworldly display that she had seen earlier that day in the tomb. It was as though he was two different men within one body.

Mithian shook herself from her revery and resolved to get to sleep. Morning would come all too quickly and they had a long ride ahead of them on the morrow.

* * *

Merlin woke around midnight, the sedative finally wearing off. He grimaced at the lingering taste in his mouth as he slowly sat up, but smiled when he saw the bowl of stew that sat beside his pallet. There was little doubt that the meal had been left by Gaius, though the warlock was hesitant to trust that the physician wasn't trying to knock him out again. Merlin sniffed the food, trying to detect any trace of his mentor's favorite soporifics. A small taste licked off his finger revealed no medicinal aftertaste. However, it did tell him that the stew was stone cold. With a discreet look around him, Merlin ducked his head to hide his eyes and rewarmed the soup with magic.

He'd already eaten half the bowl when he suddenly felt someone's eyes on him. Looking cautiously around himself, Merlin froze when he saw King Rodor, arms crossed over his chest, watching him emotionlessly from where he was now sitting across the dying fire. Another glance around showed Gwaine and Elyan still on watch at the outer crumbling wall, in addition to one of Odin's men. Turning back to Nemeth's sovereign, Merlin cleared his throat.

"Is there anything you need, sire?" Merlin asked, much more respectfully than he usually addressed Arthur.

"So you _do _know how to speak to a king," Rodor commented blandly. Merlin froze at Rodor's candor.

"Yes, sire," Merlin said, unable to say anything else. He was taken off guard when Rodor shook his head and laughed as though he was told an exceptionally funny joke. Finally, the neighboring king took a deep breath and sobered.

"You have an uncommon bond with your master," Rodor mused, a hint of a smile still on his lips.

"I suppose that is true," Merlin agreed, allowing a small grin of his own.

"You convinced him, in the heat of battle, not to slay King Odin."

Merlin's smile fell and he shrugged, not sure what Rodor wanted him to say. After another moment of silence, Merlin answered cautiously.

"I suppose, you could say that is true as well."

"I do say it is. You are a strange man, Merlin. Arthur tells me that you have saved his life many times, including today in the tomb."

"It is my job, sire," Merlin answered simply.

"No, that's not it. A manservant is charged with protecting naught but his master's wardrobe. I think it's more than that," Rodor answered shrewdly. Merlin swallowed nervously.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Sire," he responded.

"That is exactly my point. You are a _manservant _to a king, yet you fight like a _knight_, a _young _knight mind you, but a knight nonetheless. I, nor any other royal I know of, could say that my own manservant would sprint an entire _league _before running a man through in my defense. Let alone confidently lead two kings, a princess and a knight out of a quaking tomb to safety without blinking an eye. I have knights who would be hard pressed to perform such a feat. And if they did, they would surely expect a banquet in their honor at the very least!"

"I do not need such things. I serve my king gladly; I am happy in my place," Merlin answered.

"Three separate kings owe you their lives this day, and you want for nothing more?"

Of course there were certain things, or rather, _freedoms _that the secret warlock wanted, but he doubted Rodor would be so amenable to such things. Merlin looked down at his boots for a moment, schooling his expression before raising his head and looking Rodor straight in the eye.

"My friends are safe; it is the best I can ask for."

"You truly astound me, young man. Uncommon, indeed," Rodor said, though he grew silent when Mithian came out from behind her makeshift wall wrapped in her traveling cloak.

"Mithian," Merlin addressed her, standing from his bed. "Did you need something? Can I help you?"

"No, I was just cold; I decided to come sit by the fire," Mithian replied.

"Of course, please come sit, I'll build it up again. It's very nearly just embers," Merlin said, scrambling to the wood pile and selecting some of the larger branches. Within a few minutes, the fire was warm and blazing once more. Mithian smiled her appreciation, for which Merlin grinned in return and nodded to the princess before settling down to watch the newly placed logs burn.

Mithian turned to the fire as well, a tender glint in her eye as she too took in the crackling flames. Every few minutes, she would glance at Merlin out of the corner of her eye, and her lips would hint again at a mischievous smile. The manservant looked at her questioningly more than once, but Mithian could only shake her head and turn back to the fire. After the third such exchange, Merlin chuckled under his breath and Mithian pressed her hand delicately to her lips to smother her own laughter.

"What is so funny?" Merlin asked curiously, laughing at the situation he found himself in.

"It's nothing," Mithian denied. "I'm not even sure what I'm laughing about. Perhaps it's just a release of all the tension of the last week."

"Of course," Merlin agreed, smiling genuinely at the princess before grabbing up a stick at his feet and poking at the crackling logs.

Rodor quietly observed his two fireside companions unnoticed, glad for their preoccupation. He'd had an idea come to him as he watched his daughter dance around the humble servant and vice versa. It was a bold, though not entirely unprecedented move that some would say was utterly improper. But Rodor was nothing if not a wise man. And a wise man sometimes has to acknowledge that leverage comes not with rank, but from one's connections.

"I fear I am much too old to remain awake any longer," Rodor said, moving to stand with a groan.

"I'll help you," Merlin offered as he dropped his stick and rushed to his feet, prepared to assist the older man, but Rodor waved him away.

"I'm not _that _old yet," he chuckled, wandering out of the warm circle around the fire and to his bedroll. Mithian threw propriety to the wind and stayed with Merlin by the fire even after her father retreated for the night. Save for the men on watch, they were the only ones still awake; the servant seemed as unable to sleep as she was herself.

After a time of comfortable silence, Merlin rose to his feet to place another log on the fire. The princess smiled gratefully at the increased warmth, watching as Merlin dusted off his hands and sat back down beside her.

"You must be tired," Mithian ventured after several minutes of silence.

"No, unfortunately, I'm wide awake. One of the drawbacks to being unwittingly drugged to sleep in the middle of the afternoon," Merlin said with a rueful chuckle.

"Gaius cares a great deal about you," Mithian replied, smiling slightly at Merlin's indignation.

"He does," Merlin agreed, grinning at the princess.

"Arthur does too," Mithian added, though Merlin scoffed.

"It's nearly impossible for Arthur to admit such things."

"It's easier for him now than it was when first we met," Mithian reasoned.

"That is true. Marrying Gwen has been good for him," Merlin allowed, belatedly realizing how the princess might take his words. "I mean, not that marrying _you_ would have been _bad _for him, I mean, it's just that Arthur and Gwen-"

"Merlin!" Mithian laughed. "It has been a long time since my heart healed from that hurt. I'm glad that Arthur has married Guinevere, they do seem very good to each other. I am sure that had _I_ married Arthur, he would not be the king he is today."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Mithian. I felt badly that you left Camelot feeling unwanted," Merlin admitted.

"It really wasn't as bad as all that. And besides, I've learned that past hurts can lead to future joys," Mithian said sagely. Merlin smiled and nodded gratefully at the princess' reassurances, then turned back to study the flames once more.

"The others were very complimentary of you while you were asleep," Mithian said, a hint of her earlier mischievous smile returning.

"Oh no," Merlin groaned, chuckling at the grin that Mithian tried unsuccessfully to contain. "That just means they'll tease me that much worse when I'm awake."

Mithian laughed delightedly at Merlin's expression.

"I'm sure it won't be so bad," Mithian replied.

"Believe me, it will."

Merlin and Mithian smiled at one another for a moment until Merlin looked awkwardly down at his hands. When they first met, he'd felt a bit guilty when he spoke with the Princess of Nemeth, since he had spent most of her first visit trying to get rid of her, despite her significant charm. Now, as he thought about the interactions they'd had since she rode into to Camelot a few nights previous, he was surprised by how much _more _he liked Mithian when she _wasn't _betrothed to Arthur.

The crackling of flames was the only sound to be heard as they sat together in comfortable silence. Until Leon broke the quiet stillness with a sudden snort as he rolled over in his blankets. Princess and servant looked to one another, their eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth as they tried to rein in their humor. Then an indelicate chortle from Mithian set them both off, clapping their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter.

After they calmed down, Merlin glanced around them, trying to see if they had woken anyone. The warlock couldn't help noticing then how very alone he and Mithian were, what with the watchmen standing so far off while everyone else was asleep. Then his mind caught up with his thoughts and his cheeks reddened.

Mithian smiled at the sight; she was tempted to tell Merlin then that she had seen him, that she knew of his magic and that she didn't care. But a quick glance around at the sleeping men surrounding them made her hold her tongue. She had promised herself not to reveal his secret and there was no guarantee that no one would overhear them. Mithian's eyes returned to the servant's profile, smiling inwardly at the blush still suffusing his face and neck. Contrasting the sight before her with the memory of his actions of earlier, Mithian found herself wondering at how a man with such power at his command could still be so very humble.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated :)


	2. Negotiations

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Wow! I'm blown away by the response to this story. Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed! I should also let you know, this story is completely written, and 23 chapters long. I hope you enjoy the ride!**

* * *

**Negotiations**

Merlin woke the next morning to the rustling snap of Leon and Percival shaking out their cloaks before slinging them over their shoulders. Sitting up and looking around him blearily, the manservant realized that he was the last to rise.

"Look who's finally up," Arthur teased from his place by the fire.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Merlin asked in groggy confusion.

"Gaius and the princess wouldn't let me," the king responded petulantly.

"Whatever happened to 'I'm the king?'" Merlin asked cheekily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"That's what I'd like to know," Arthur groused. "But now that you're awake we can leave, so get up you lazy dolt and help Gwaine round up the horses."

Merlin smiled at Arthur's subtle eagerness, knowing exactly why the king was so ready to get home. Chuckling to himself, the warlock stood up and wound his way through the crumbling stones out to the meadow where the horses had been hobbled.

Gwaine was taking a drink from his waterskin, having gathered the majority of the horses already, but there were a few that were still nibbling on the vegetation within the trees.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Gwaine called, waving at the manservant.

"Morning. What did you do to get this job?" Merlin asked.

"I might have said something along the lines of Mithian having more control over you than Arthur," the knight admitted, grinning cheekily.

"I'm sure that went over well," Merlin laughed, heading towards a mare that was straying farther into the woods in order to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

"About as well as you'd expect," Gwaine laughed, tethering the reins of the horse he was leading and heading for another.

"At least you're not mucking out the stables," Merlin offered.

"At least there's that," Gwaine agreed, tying the last horse and eyeing the small group of animals with a frown.

"What is it?" Merlin asked, looking over the horses for himself.

"Well, my friend, we rode out of Camelot yesterday with fourteen horses," Gwaine began.

"Yes, we did," Merlin replied, unsure of what Gwaine was thinking.

"We obviously aren't bringing Morgana back with us, so we have one spare horse for King Rodor, but we also have Odin and his escort."

"Ah," Merlin said, the problem now clear. A moment later, the others joined them in the clearing, ready to mount up and get moving.

"What are you two dithering on about?" Arthur asked.

"We're three horses short," Gwaine answered. Arthur sighed and looked back to where Odin was standing with his two men.

"King Rodor can take my horse," Merlin offered. "King Odin can take the spare and his escort and I can walk."

"Why should you have to walk?" Gwaine protested.

"Like him or not, Odin is still a King," Arthur murmured quietly, warning the knight with a look.

"And I'm just a servant," Merlin added.

"You're more than that Merlin, and you both know it," Gwaine said. Arthur opened his mouth, no doubt to offer a terribly contrived denial, Merlin thought.

"Nevertheless, I doubt Odin would agree," Merlin said quickly before Arthur could utter a word. Merlin smiled gratefully at the knight but walked away to silence Gwaine's argument. The warlock smiled at Mithian as he passed her, unaware that the princess had overheard the quiet discussion.

Arthur frowned thoughtfully at his manservant while Merlin helped Gaius pack his things and get into his saddle. He'd been on the verge of agreeing with Gwaine's sentiment, but Merlin had spoken before he could. It twinged something in the back of the king's mind, something that always seemed to get buried under antagonism and brotherly banter. Arthur had known for a long time that Merlin was a private person. It had taken almost two years for Merlin to admit that he hadn't known his father, and not because the man had died but because he had left before Merlin was born. It was yet another few years- once Arthur was considering a marriage proposal to Guinevere- before Merlin had revealed to the king that the manservant's parents were never married.

Arthur had wondered many times since then if that was the only thing Merlin buried down under his cheerful demeanor, or if there was something more that Merlin kept close to his chest. The king rarely ever had the time at his disposal to ponder the mysteries of Merlin's character, but there were times, like this one, that the unidentifiable _something _about his manservant would jump to the front of his mind. That there was more to Merlin than met the eye, Arthur had no doubt.

"Are we headed out, or not?" Odin drawled cantankerously. Arthur looked at the other king disapprovingly for a moment before once again putting Merlin's oddities aside to ponder another day and moving to get into his saddle. There was a clatter of noise as the riders mounted their horses and fell into line behind the king of Camelot.

"Move out!" Arthur commanded, acknowledging Merlin with a nod when the servant silently fell into step beside the king's horse.

* * *

"We'll stop here to water the horses!" Arthur called out a few hours later as a small brook came into view. Merlin immediately took the reins of Arthur's horse as the king dismounted and waited wordlessly for Arthur to finish his waterskin and hand it to the servant to be refilled.

Mithian watched the thin servant make the rounds of the knights and his mentor, collecting all of their waterskins in order to fill them while he filled Arthur's. The princess was rather surprised when Merlin included not only her father, but Odin in his collection. Odin, it seemed, was just as surprised, but handed his waterskin over without comment. Finally, Merlin came round to Mithian.

"It seems almost cruel to have you do this after what happened the last time you filled my waterskin," Mithian said ruefully. Merlin smiled.

"I'll be just fine, this time," Merlin assured her. "I'll just be over there." Merlin pointed to the brook gurgling just a dozen feet away.

"Perhaps I'd better accompany you, just to ensure your safety," Mithian replied teasingly. Merlin laughed.

"Just don't tell Arthur, fair guardian. I'd never hear the end of it."

"Best to keep it between us, then," Mithian joked, unaware that her father was eyeing the two of them speculatively. The princess tucked her water skin under her arm, then tried to reach for those that were slung over Merlin's arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Merlin asked.

"Helping," Mithian said simply.

"You're a princess," Merlin argued.

"Well spotted," Mithian teased.

"I'm the servant," Merlin replied. Mithian narrowed her eyes at Merlin, gauging his expression.

"You are far more than that, and you know it," Mithian murmured, echoing Gwaine's words from earlier. Merlin froze in surprise, then smiled sadly.

"Merlin! Water!" Arthur shouted, breaking the moment between the servant and princess.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," Merlin said, nodding at her and walking towards the stream. Mithian frowned, but followed after him with her water skin still tucked under her arm. As she knelt down at the brook beside the dark-haired servant, Merlin smiled at her and carried on with his chore. Mithian smiled in return, but then frowned once Merlin turned back to the water. She was surprised by just how much she had disliked it when Merlin had called her Your Highness, rather than using her name. The formality of it clashed uncomfortably in her mind with the memories of the closeness they had shared the previous night.

* * *

"Mount up, we're leaving!" Arthur called out after everyone had had a light repast. Merlin dusted off his hands, offering one to Gaius to help the travel-weary elderly physician onto his horse.

"Thank you, Merlin," Gaius said once he was seated comfortably. Merlin smiled and nodded at his mentor, moving towards Arthur to walk beside his master once more.

"Merlin?" Mithian called out, causing the warlock to turn around, a questioning look on his face.

"Yes, Your Highness?" Merlin asked, turning to head back in her direction. Mithian scowled inwardly at the title.

"Mithian," she blurted before propriety could silence her.

"Pardon?" Merlin asked, pausing mid-step in confusion.

"That is my name," the princess replied, giving a subdued smile.

"I'm sorry?" Merlin asked, growing more confused. "If I have done something to offend-"

"You called me Your Highness," Mithian interrupted, then looked awkwardly down at her gloved hands.

"Yes?" Merlin asked, still not sure what the problem was.

"Are we not friends? I would prefer if you called me Mithian. Your Highness seems too formal, coming from you."

"Because you are well aware of my impertinence?" Merlin asked with a grin.

"No, because I am well aware of you," Mithian answered. Merlin smiled, then cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing around in an effort to bring himself back to the situation at hand.

"Mithian, then," Merlin acknowledged with another small smile. "Did you need some assistance getting onto your horse?" he asked, belatedly noticing that the princess was still standing beside the animal, fidgeting with the reins. The manservant stepped forward instantly, reaching out a hand to assist the princess into her saddle.

"You must be tired," Mithan offered, freezing Merlin where he stood beside her, his eyebrows to raising once more in confusion.

"I'm just fine," Merlin assured her.

"You exerted yourself greatly yesterday after being gravely injured. Now you've been walking all morning, you must be exhausted."

"I'm really not as fragile as Arthur would have you believe," Merlin chuckled. "I am a peasant, after all. I was born to walk and work."

"I _insist _you ride my horse for a spell," Mithian demanded, pursing her lips in determination, grabbing Merlin's still-offered hand and thrusting the reins into it.

"I really _cannot _take your horse," Merlin argued, his eyes wide and alarmed as he handed the reins back to the stubborn princess.

"And _I_ cannot ride it while _you _continue to walk," Mithian retorted, practically flinging the reins into Merlin's face when he tried to hide his hands behind his back. The horse stamped its hooves in consternation, causing Mithian to smirk triumphantly when Merlin scrambled to grab hold of the reins in order to keep the horse from bolting.

"I have to insist that you ride-" Merlin began, once more trying to hand the reins to Mithian, who had taken a note from Merlin and had hidden her own hands behind her back.

"I cannot!" she protested, shaking her head and grinning as Merlin stood stubbornly with the reins extended towards her.

"Why don't you _both _ride it?" King Rodor interrupted nonchalantly, causing Merlin and Mithian to redden and glance around them, realizing belatedly that most of the company was already mounted, and that they were watching and smirking at them. Gwaine, Merlin noticed ruefully, was biting his lip to keep from laughing aloud.

"Yes, Merlin, why don't you _both _ride it?" Arthur asked mischievously. Merlin shot Arthur an exasperated look, but with two kings suggesting it, one of them the father of the princess in question, Merlin couldn't refuse.

"Of course," Merlin said, grimacing at Arthur in much the same way as he had when Arthur had made him perform for Queen Annis.

"Of course," Mithian repeated in a regal tone, trying not to reveal how her heart was pounding and her palms were suddenly sweating.

"After you," Merlin gestured, offering his hand once more to help Mithian up onto the horse, then climbing up to sit behind her saddle. Merlin held his breath for a moment after he was settled, cursing himself for not expecting the close proximity that sharing a horse required.

Mithian nudged the animal forward at Arthur's command, her back tingling at the sensation of Merlin sitting just inches behind her, his warmth inexplicably making her want to shiver. Merlin however, was starting to question the intelligence of this arrangement. His coordination was known to be lacking on the best of days with both feet firmly on the ground. Now Merlin found himself perched behind Mithian with nowhere _appropriate _to hold on. He couldn't very well wrap his arms around her waist; he'd momentarily considered holding onto the back of the saddle, but quickly rejected that idea when he realized how close that would put his hands to other areas even more inappropriate than the princess' waist. The warlock finally settled on resting his hands on his own thighs and concentrating a layer of magical energy over himself to help him maintain his seat and his balance.

What Merlin _hadn't _counted on, was Gwaine.

Thirty minutes into their ride, Merlin had his eyes closed to help him concentrate on centering himself and his magic. Suddenly, Merlin felt a shove to his back, which unfortunately led to him falling into Mithian. His chest was probably pressed into her back for rather longer than was physically necessary, but Merlin couldn't pull himself away until he'd regained his balance, and his mental concentration was utterly gone.

Mithian said nothing, but looked back at Merlin questioningly.

"Sorry, someone thinks he's funny," Merlin murmured in embarrassment. Mithian inclined her head in acknowledgement, but said nothing. Her heart was beating so fast she didn't dare utter a word, lest her voice come out in a tremulous quiver.

Just when Merlin got himself under control, mentally and physically, Percival came aside them as the trail widened. Merlin eyed the knight suspiciously, but Percival said nothing and kept his hands firmly on his reins. Merlin decided he really should have known the large knight was just the decoy. Another nudge from the other side had Merlin pressing into Mithian again, though this time she remained steadfastly facing forward.

The knights delighted in the crimson color staining Merlin's cheeks every time they _helped _him get to know Mithian a little better. It was becoming harder to surprise the servant as the hours rolled by, but Gwaine was quite proud that they had managed more than a half-dozen times. However, at the end of the third hour, the king's party came upon a village where they were able to procure three new mounts and Merlin's sweet torture came to an end. Though neither Merlin nor Mithian could say that they were happier for it.

* * *

Just before sundown, the white towers of Camelot's castle came into view and the whole company began to move a little faster. Arthur sped up until his horse was nearly galloping, eager as he was to be back within the walls of his city and in the arms of his queen. Merlin laughed at Arthur's obvious enthusiasm and shared a knowing smile with Mithian beside him, both of them sure of the reason behind Arthur's sudden increase in speed. Gwaine's quiet, knowing, chuckles behind them, however, made them both smooth their expressions and face forward once more.

Queen Guinevere was waiting on the palace steps, resplendent in her finest gown, when the travel-weary group rode triumphantly into the courtyard. Arthur smiled a giddy and grateful smile upon seeing his wife. Just the day previous, he had been saying his final goodbyes and apologizing to her in his head while he waited for the stroke that would end his life. Arthur felt that he had been granted a second chance to make a difference in the world and as such, he fully intended to make sure that no one doubted his love for his wife.

As the king leapt down from his mount and flung the reins towards a waiting stablehand, Guinevere smiled at his exuberance and moved down the stairs to greet him. Arthur met her at the bottom and grabbed her in a fierce hug, picking her up off her feet and swinging her around before placing a passionate kiss upon her lips.

Arthur's common-born (or common-by-choice, in Gwaine's case) knights whooped and whistled at the display while Merlin applauded, grinning at Gwen's blush once Arthur finally put her down. Mithian looked to her father, expecting to see disapproval in his gaze, but she was surprised to see a fond glimmer of remembrance in his grey eyes. It wasn't often that Mithian was reminded that her father had loved her mother so deeply, but it gladdened her heart to see the evidence of their bond, long deceased though her mother may be.

Mithian then found herself looking for Merlin in the crowd, catching a glimpse of him unloading baggage from his mentor's pony as the old man rested his weary frame on a nearby bench. As though he felt her eyes on him, Merlin turned to look over his shoulder, catching her off guard and holding her gaze for a few moments. With a small nod and a gentle smile, Merlin returned to his task and dutifully handed the physician's baggage to another servant when Arthur bellowed for Merlin to follow.

"Something catch your eye, Princess?" Gwaine asked her. Startling, Mithian turned to the knight in question and stuttered uncharacteristically.

"N-no! I, I, I'm not sure what you're talking about," she finally managed. Mithian cursed inwardly, wondering where the hell all her noble decorum had disappeared to in the last week. Gwaine merely smiled at her flustered state, a roguish glint in his dark eyes.

"There's no harm in it. Our good king himself has proven that the servants aren't exactly off-limits around here for a royal such as yourself," he drawled. Mithian burned a bright red and finally found her lost decorum, straightening her spine and willing the blush to fade.

"I haven't any idea what you could mean, Sir Gwaine," she insisted, before finding her way up the steps, Gwaine's chuckles following her the entire way.

* * *

On his tenth trip to the well for water to fill Arthur's bath, Merlin paused before the last staircase to wipe his brow. Glancing around to ensure no one was about, Merlin's eyes flashed and the buckets suddenly became much lighter. It was a risky move, since another servant might offer to take a bucket for him, but this close to the king's chambers, there wasn't usually a good deal of servant traffic.

As Merlin reached the top step, however, someone calling his name made him stiffen.

"Merlin, I'm glad I saw you, I was wondering if you could... Merlin? Are you alright?" Mithian's voice was suddenly concerned.

"I'm just fine," he insisted, willing his tense muscles to relax. "How can I help you, Mithian?"

"My father, I was wondering if Gaius had a tincture for his bruises. He was beaten... I'm so sorry, I'm keeping you here while you're holding those heavy buckets, please let me take one," Mithian entreated.

"No!" Merlin insisted, startling Mithian with his vehemence as he yanked the buckets away from her hands, miraculously not spilling a drop.

"Why not? It would help me feel better for getting you injured."

"Er... I told you already that it wasn't your fault, and you let me share your horse and that was more than enough... and, er... It wouldn't be _proper_!" Merlin said triumphantly, as though it had only just occurred to him that it was generally considered improper for a princess to be hauling water.

"You've seen what I think of propriety, Merlin. I can out-ride and out-hunt kings, I can burp with the manliest of men and I can very well carry a bucket of water!"

Merlin lifted the buckets up over his head, counting on his greater height to keep Mithian from reaching them. What he hadn't anticipated, though, was that Mithian wasn't above tickling him. Merlin instantly buckled over, chortling heartily with each poke and prod to his sides. Mithian laughed merrily, encouraged by Merlin's infectious chuckles. However, neither of them realized that their enthusiastic giggling and playful protests had drawn the king's attention. Arthur watched from his doorway in complete disbelief as Merlin laughed and _squirmed _under Mithian's hands.

The manservant's reaction was so enthralling that, for a moment, Mithian forgot why she had started tickling him in the first place. Merlin did as well, lowering the water in his attempts to evade the princess' deft fingers. Just as Mithian came to herself and tried to use Merlin's distraction to grab at a bucket, Merlin straightened and began swinging the buckets around, doing his best to avoid Mithian's reaching hands.

Merlin was doing well, keeping the water in the buckets with a layer of magic, but he froze and his concentration broke when a throat cleared behind Mithian. The princess took advantage of Merlin's sudden stillness and managed to snatch a bucket from his hands. However, at its unexpected lack of weight, Mithian over-compensated and water flew into her face, drenching her from head to waist.

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice scolded and Merlin's eyes widened at the spectacle unfolding in front of him. "What did you think you were doing?!"

Merlin bit his lip and shrugged, not even bothering to insist that it hadn't been his fault. It wasn't as though he'd asked Mithian to yank a bucket away from him, after all. Then his eyes guiltily moved over the princess' soaked form; when he finally met her eyes, Merlin realized that she was struggling not to laugh. Biting his lip harder in an ineffectual attempt to contain his own mirth, Merlin looked to Arthur's incredulous face.

"Bad enough you've doused her in water, now you're laughing about it? Did that blow you took yesterday knock any last remaining sense you had out of your head?!"

Mithian couldn't hold it in any longer; she bent nearly double, clutching her stomach as she laughed till she could hardly breathe. Merlin lost it too, laughing heartily over the whole situation. He was suddenly shocked breathless, though, when the second bucket was taken from his slack grip and dumped over his head by a grinning Mithian.

"How is that for propriety?" she asked innocently, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. Merlin could only gape at her dripping hair and smug-yet-serene smile, causing her to laugh anew.

Arthur blinked in confusion, looking from Merlin to Mithian, one laughing merrily and the other gaping in shock.

"Arthur?" Gwen's voice called from the royal chamber's doorway.

"I'm coming," Arthur called over his shoulder, completely flabbergasted by this bizarre turn of events. Gwen stepped into the corridor and then she too, could only stare at the soaked pair in confusion.

"We'll leave you to it," Arthur said finally, backing away as though he might be next to be doused with cold water. Gwen looked between Merlin and Mithian in sudden understanding, a sly smile stretching across her face as she too backed away towards the royal chambers.

"Have fun!" were Guinevere's final words before the door was latched shut behind the king and queen.

Merlin smiled at the sudden prospect of a free evening and looked to Mithian, who had finally gained control over her laughter.

"Bruises, you say?" Merlin asked, gesturing for Mithian to precede him down the hallway towards the physician's chambers. The both of them chuckled at the few stares that they got, being utterly soaked from head to waist. Mithian scoffed at the tsk-tsks that echoed from a pair of noble ladies in the cloisters but Merlin ducked his head to hide his impish grin. Gaius didn't even blink an eye, accustomed as he was to Merlin's clumsiness and odd accidents, when they showed up soaking wet and looking for a bruise remedy.

It was only much later, after Mithian had gone on her way and Merlin was settling into his bed that he realized Mithian hadn't said a word about the weightlessness of the buckets.

* * *

With his mind preoccupied by what Mithian must have thought about weightless buckets of water, Merlin didn't notice Gwen's scrutiny the following morning. He had just finished putting clean sheets on the bed and had begun gathering the dirty laundry when he realized that the scratching of Gwen's quill had ceased. Turning towards the servant-come-monarch, he raised his eyebrow questioningly when he realized that Gwen was eyeing him speculatively.

"Something wrong, Gwen?" he asked.

"No," she answered with a slow shake of her head, elaborating no further.

"Something on your mind, then?" Merlin asked, unaccustomed to Gwen studying him as she was.

"Wouldn't you like to marry someday, Merlin?" Gwen asked without preamble. Merlin's eyes widened at the question before he shook his head and laughed at the idea.

"I hadn't thought of it," he answered honestly. He'd not considered anything of the sort since he put Freya's body adrift upon the Lake of Avalon and set fire to the boat. Merlin stooped to pick up the king's carelessly discarded clothing and scoffed at the mud caking a pair of trousers. He had a feeling Arthur looked for mud holes to stomp in just to irritate his manservant.

Merlin then had to fight down a grimace before blindly shoving everything into his laundry basket when he found Gwen's nightdress and underthings in a crumpled pile with Arthur's nightclothes. Gwen was never so careless; her clothing was never on the floor unless Arthur had put it there, which led Merlin's thoughts down a path he'd rather not follow.

"You've never considered it? I've heard it on good authority that Elfa in the kitchens is rather fond of your ears," Gwen teased. Merlin sputtered indignantly, fighting the urge to cover the apparent objects of Elfa's affections.

"I don't think so," he finally managed, wishing he could leave this conversation already.

"Don't you _want _to take a wife?" Gwen asked, surprised by Merlin's vague answer.

"Sometimes, I feel I already have," Merlin muttered darkly as he plucked Arthur's sock from a wilting flower arrangement, reminding him that the king wanted him to go pick more flowers for Gwen.

"Merlin!" the queen exclaimed in a scandalised voice, though her giggles gave her away. Merlin sighed, resigned to giving Gwen a more satisfactory answer.

"Who exactly would I court? And don't say Elfa from the kitchens, I know what she's been up to with half the castle servants!" Merlin said, pointing his finger at Gwen before she could say anything. "When exactly am I supposed to court this mystery girl, hmm? I'm here as the sun rises and at Arthur's beck and call until well after sundown. And if by some chance I'm _not _here, I'm collecting or delivering something for Gaius or grinding who knows what into a powder for him. Don't even get me started on his leech tank! As much as Arthur would _love _to think, I don't exactly have time to dawdle around."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Gwen apologized, recalling how busy a servant's life could be. Merlin, who essentially held two jobs, what with his position with Gaius, was rather more harried than Gwen had been as a lady's maid or general castle servant.

"I'm not, Gwen," Merlin said kindly. "I may not have time to _woo_, as Arthur would say, but I do have friends and a purpose here, which is more than I had in Ealdor. I am not unhappy, Your Highness."

Gwen smiled in understanding. It wasn't often that Merlin addressed her by title, especially when there was no one to overhear them. It was a tactic that he used whenever Gwen tried to ask him about his youth or why he left Ealdor. She had come to understand that Merlin could be a very private person and when he addressed her as Your Highness, it was usually because he wanted to close a subject to further conversation.

"Alright, Merlin, I won't pry any further. But don't discount a romance just for our sake, _please_."

"Of course not," Merlin laughed, though in truth, had no expectation of following through with the promise. He had a destiny, after all, and it had proven time and again to be a rather troublesome thing.

* * *

"I will not concede any lands to you, _Odin_," King Rodor said firmly, intentionally omitting the man's title. "Your invasion was unjust and without provocation. I owe you _nothing, _for Nemeth is _not _in your debt."

"If you are unwilling to compromise, perhaps you would consider a political match. My wife has been gone these many years," Odin suggested, looking over to where Princess Mithian sat beside Queen Guinevere, his eyes clearly passing over the princess as though evaluating a prize. The other royals that were gathered around the table straightened indignantly at the blatant, lustful gaze of the invader. Rodor would never be able to forget the way Odin had grasped Mithian's chin and leered at her when he had come into the throne room of Nemeth like the trespassing scoundrel that he was.

The stunned silence was broken when Merlin set a pewter jug of wine down on the table in front of Odin rather harder than was necessary. Odin looked away from Mithian and shook the splattered droplets of wine from his hand. He then glared at the servant, who was ignoring the royal by busying himself with laying out the food on the tray he'd just brought up from the kitchens. It was a subtle diversionary tactic, but it was enough to pull Rodor out of his shock.

"Out of the question," Rodor growled. Odin raised an eyebrow at Rodor's anger, but didn't push the subject further. Rather, Odin smiled smugly, knowing that he'd found a weak spot in Nemeth's armor. Rodor narrowed his eyes, realizing what he'd just given away in his angry response. Mithian narrowed her eyes as well, refusing to be used as a pawn in Odin's attempt to keep ahold of Nemeth after his thwarted invasion.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Arthur soothed, also sending Odin a warning look. His glare was nothing, however, next to that of Queen Guinevere's. The steel in Gwen's eyes was almost enough to make Odin apologize. Instead, he smirked to himself and filled his goblet with more of the delicious wine the impertinent servant had practically splattered all over the front of him.

It took the rest of the afternoon and plenty more wine and arguing, but Odin finally agreed to pull back his forces and rescind his claim on Nemeth. Rodor wasted no time in sending riders off to inform his best knights and his council that they were to handle things until Rodor's health improved enough to make the journey home.

* * *

A grand feast was held that night to celebrate the new truce. The tension that had imbued the entire negotiation process had finally dissipated to a tolerable level. It had gladdened Rodor's heart to see Mithian genuinely smiling again. For the most part, she had been rather quiet and subdued since her ordeal with Morgana. Rodor had only just that morning heard the full story of Mithian's journey to Camelot and how Morgana had used his strong-willed daughter as a pawn.

Mithian's mind had seemed far away when she had related to him how Merlin had been the one to suspect Morgana. Rodor had been surprised when her eyes had misted over when Mithian had told him how she had tried to give Merlin a message, which had resulted in Morgana's attempt to kill the manservant. The guilt which so clearly plagued the princess certainly explained why Mithian seemed so preoccupied with Merlin of late. In fact, before this evening, it was only when Mithian was conversing with the dark-haired lad that she seemed to be genuinely happy. Thus, Rodor was hopeful that her interest in the young man would go along with what he had in mind.

As it was, Merlin was the servant attending those at the head table during the feast and Rodor did not miss the poorly-concealed looks that his daughter directed towards the lad. Nor did Rodor miss the pleased grins that crossed Queen Guinevere's face whenever she, too, caught Mithian's eyes following Merlin as the servant poured wine and served food. It was when Rodor saw Merlin's gaze catch Mithian's for a fleeting moment and the familiarity in the smile that passed between them that his decision was solidified.

However, Rodor and Guinevere weren't the only ones with their eyes on Mithian. Odin didn't even attempt to conceal his lust for her, which left Rodor ill-at-ease. Until Mithian was wed, Odin would continue to to seek her hand, Rodor was sure. Considering Nemeth's position as a physical barrier between Meredor and Camelot, it was no wonder that Odin wanted Mithian for his wife, regardless of her considerable beauty. Even though Nemeth was a much smaller kingdom than either of its neighbors, even with Arthur's relinquishment of the lands surrounding the Labyrinth of Gedref, it held a wealth of riches, as well as valuable trade routes from the sea.

Long ago, King Rodor had hoped that a union between Arthur and Mithian would strengthen Nemeth's position in the face of Odin's aggression. But the union had fallen through, much to Odin's delight. Not that Rodor could hold it against Arthur, especially after seeing the young monarch with his chosen bride.

Rodor was no fool. Mithian may not be in line for the throne of Nemeth, but she would still need a strong marriage to cement their kingdom's position within Arthur's court. A highly ranked lord of Camelot might have been a wise choice if the young Pendragon had held more stock in noble birthright. That his queen was a former maidservant and Arthur's best and closest knights were mostly common-born peasants spoke of what Arthur believed when it came to the measure of nobility. And one man, Rodor had come to find, though of very lowly station to the public eye, was more influential than any noble in Arthur's court. More influential than any other, save perhaps the queen.

That man was Merlin. A peasant-born servant who, in a single afternoon, risked his life to save and sway kings and avert a potentially long and bloody war, only to faithfully serve dinner to his king the following evening. That was humility. That was influence. That was nobility. _That _was the match Rodor wanted for his daughter.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	3. New Allies

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks again for all the fabulous reviews! A bit of a change of pace in this slightly shorter chapter, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. By the way, I am a *firm* believer in happy endings. ;)**

* * *

**New Allies**

To the witch trapped in the Tomb of Kings, the earth still seemed as though it was shaking. Yet in reality it had been still for many hours. In the oppressive darkness of the thick dust and unstable and still falling rock, Morgana Pendragon could see nothing. There was a deep rumbling as the walls of the tomb around her continued to shift and groan. Dust was thick in the air, choking her and leaving her breathless. As she struggled to move from her prone position, more and more pebbles and stones fell on her, bruising her already marked skin.

Raising a hand in front of her, Morgana tried to clear the air. She tried again and again to draw on her magic, but time and again, nothing happened. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, caging her.

"Help me!" Morgana called into the hazy cloud. It was thick and choking, obscuring even the smallest details. The high priestess reached again for her magic, yet found nothing. Suddenly in the mist before her, an old man materialized, half obscured by the haze. But this man was all too familiar, dressed in robes of Camelot red.

"_Emrys_!" Morgana growled, throwing her hand forward when the old man smirked at her and threw her back into the wall. When Morgana looked up at the old man from the ground, his features began to smooth and his hair darkened. There was a strange sort of familiarity to this still morphing figure; Morgana struggled to see through the gloom. She leaned forward, squinting to try and see who the changed man was.

Just as she was on the cusp of recognition, Morgana woke with a startled gasp and blinked in the eerie gloom. Desperately, she tried to hold onto the strands of her dream, knowing that it had been important, but unable to keep a hold of the details. Moaning as she tried to sit up, Morgana winced at the pounding of her head at the movement. The witch paused, breathing deeply, then eased herself into a sitting position. Blinking back the dust in her eyes and looking around her at the oppressive gloom, Morgana was suddenly and forcefully reminded of the pit that had imprisoned her for two years.

For a moment, Morgana forgot where she was and what she had been doing for the last week. There was still a lingering sense of impending doom from her dream, and the anxiousness increased with her inability to remember what she had seen. Looking desperately around her and seeing nothing but darkness, her mind took her straight back to her captivity. The lack of Aithusa's constant presence had the witch panicking, her heart pounding and her breaths coming in quick, jerky gasps. Morgana cried out and sobbed as the thick, dusty air choked her, filling her lungs and making her throat burn. Coughing nearly enough to make her retch, Morgana soon found herself on her hands and knees.

Under her fingers, she felt not the smooth stones of Sarrum's pit, but rather dirt and gravel. Rough, freshly broken stones lay around her, cutting into her hands and knees as she tried to stand. Morgana's back smarted as she straightened; that was when she remembered being thrown into the wall.

A few tentative steps forward brought her to the sepulcher within the Tomb of Kings in Nemeth. Both exits to the burial vault were blocked by stone, the faint light coming from the cracks in the high ceiling caused by the tremor. Morgana sighed wearily in frustration and leaned heavily upon the stone box, her mind flashing with everything that had happened.

Arthur had been in her grasp, on his knees, at her mercy. Odin only had to bring his sword down to separate the magic-hating king's head from his shoulders. Then the ground had shaken, taking away her imminent victory. Arthur and his peasant knight had escaped with Rodor and Mithian. Inexplicably, Merlin had been there to save Arthur's neck once again and lead the pathetic royals to safety. How that meddlesome fool had recovered from a high priestess' attack, Morgana didn't know. With any luck, Odin had run both Arthur and Merlin down and finished the interrupted execution.

It didn't seem fair, Morgana mused petulantly. She was a High Priestess of The Old Religion, yet time and time again, Arthur and his ragtag collection of peasant-knights managed to thwart her best laid plans. The quake had been yet another example of Arthur's extraordinary and unbelievable luck-

Morgana froze mid-thought and cursed to herself at the tremor's sudden, unlikely timing. Unless Fate hated her and favored Arthur, there was something else at play in her interactions with her half-brother. Morgana growled in frustration at her realization. Reaching out with her mind, Morgana confirmed it.

It hadn't been a natural quake at all; Fate was not such a bitter shrew. The very air tingled with a lingering trace of such powerful magic that Morgana nearly gasped at the feel of it. It was the same touch of magic that had thrown her into the wall and nearly brought the ceiling down upon her. The witch counted herself fortunate that she hadn't been caught under the cave-ins.

This was a powerful magical signature, not some pathetic remnant left by someone as weak as Gaius. It pained her to admit it, but it resonated with a strength greater than her own considerable power. Morgana's eyes darkened and her lips pulled up into a snarling grimace. There was only one person who could have left this trace. The one man who had thwarted her plans time after time.

_Emrys_.

The aged sorcerer must have healed Merlin and followed the useless manservant to the tomb to save Arthur once again. It wasn't fair; what had she done against Emrys to make him hate his fellow sorcerer? Why did that traitor side with her magic-hating brother?! It confounded her to be stymied thus time and time again. Morgana's temper grew until she could hold it in check no longer. She threw her head back and screamed a blood-curdling cry of pure rage, releasing a wild torrent of uncontrolled magic. The walls vibrated and dust filtered down from the ceiling, adding to the gloom of the dirty air.

Frustrated, sore and exhausted, Morgana seethed at her inability to match Emry's show of power in quaking the tomb. Then Morgana directed her magic to the piles of stones blocking the exits, flinging some of the stones through the air and crushing others into dust before bursting through the last few with a push of magic. Morgana looked around as she strode through the now-demolished and deserted tomb, seething at how easily Odin had abandoned her.

As she finally exited the tomb, blinking at the sudden light, Morgana paused momentarily to let her eyes adjust. It was early morning, but she had no idea how long she had lain unconscious, trapped within the tomb. Morgana's mind spun; she had much to do in order find Emrys. She would need to prepare; this was no fool's errand, after all. Perhaps another visit to Alator was needed. The Catha priest couldn't possibly hold his tongue forever. After a few deep, cleansing breaths of the fresh air outside of the tomb, Morgana began walking, vowing to find Emrys and bring him to his knees.

* * *

The last High Priestess of The Old Religion slogged angrily over the rough terrain. Her eyes were stormy and her fury was palpable as she moved through the forest. Even the woodland creatures fled from her tumultuous presence. Her rage had grown ever stronger when she exited the Tomb of Kings and discovered that no one remained. Not a single man was left; so much for Odin being her ally. Even her horse was gone, as the beast had been one from Camelot, and none of Odin's mounts remained either.

Now after two days of walking, Morgana made it to the top of a distant hill overlooking Camelot. The witch seethed with unhindered fury at Arthur, Mithian and Rodor's escape. The sun was setting just on the other side of the city, causing the castle towers and turrets to stand out in silhouette. Morgana reached out with her mind's eye, passing over the quiet peasants in the streets and the drowsy castle guards, finding her way to the room that she and Mithian had stayed in. Sure enough, the princess was there, readying herself for bed.

Morgana's anger spiked and she used what little connection she could feel to the rune-carved bracelet on Mithian's wrist to punish the princess one last time. The witch smirked with satisfaction when the spoiled princess cried out in pain. Morgana held the connection as long as she could, hoping to get closer and increase the torment but the distant thud of horses broke her concentration.

Gasping and nearly spent, Morgana realized that she had underestimated the debilitating effect of her head injury. The horses were coming closer, no doubt a Camelot patrol. Breathing deeply and rallying the last of her strength, Morgana hastily whispered a spell to transport her as far from the citadel as she could manage.

Thus Morgana knew not where she landed. It was a heavily forested area and night had fallen. There was little chance that she would discover her whereabouts before daybreak. Not wanting to stop in what could be a dangerous area of the forest, the High Priestess found herself wandering, weakened and dizzy. Everything that she had done in the last week had drained her far more than she realized, and her reserves of energy were becoming further depleted as she drifted through the trees. It didn't help that her head was pounding and her ears were ringing after her hasty transport aggravated her head injury.

Morgana narrowed her eyes as her path led her to the edge of a cliff. It seemed as though she could go no further. Backing slowly from the edge, Morgana seethed inwardly at the number of failures that she had suffered. It was all Emry's fault. The meddling man had gotten in her way more than even Merlin had. Clenching her fists in frustration, she screamed in rage and malevolent anger, her cries echoing across the wide valley below her.

Her last reserves spent, Morgana finally collapsed to her knees and knew no more.

* * *

The next time Morgana gained awareness, she realized that she was not on the cliff top where she had finally passed out. She was in a bed within a rough-hewn fabric tent. There was a cooking fire burning somewhere and Morgana's head was no longer pounding.

"I am pleased to see that you are awake, My Lady," a small, timid voice sounded to Morgana's right. Turning to meet their gaze, Morgana narrowed her eyes at the slim, light-brown haired girl standing there. She was obviously a druid, based on the marking peeking out from her pushed-up sleeve.

"Who are you?" Morgana demanded, not willing to show any portion of gratitude until she knew by whom and why she was being held captive.

"I am sorry, My Lady," the girl blathered, wringing her hands nervously. "I am Sefa, daughter of Ruadan."

Morgana's eyes widened, instantly knowing who this girl was. Ruadan had been a worthy ally, but it had been his foolish attempts to save this Sefa that had killed him, divesting Morgana of a powerful ally. The high priestess sniffed disdainfully at her, angered that such a pathetic creature could have ruined so many of Morgana's future plans. Straightening her spine, Morgana asserted her power and authority over the timid druid girl.

"Why are you keeping me?" Morgana demanded, unwilling to remain captive when Aithusa wasn't there to be used against her.

"We are not keeping you, My Lady! We just wanted to help you," Sefa said hurriedly, sniveling as she realized the extent of the priestess' ire. It made Morgana smile inwardly to see Sefa backpedal under her stare; she had yet to tire of the thrill that went through her when she commanded the fear and respect of those beneath her.

"Who is this _'we_?'" Morgana asked, her voice turning coy as Sefa trembled further; there was no denying that the witch was now the one in charge.

"That would be me and my group," a deep, though familiar voice drawled from behind Sefa. The man stood silhouetted in the entrance to the tent. Morgana had not seen this man in at least seven years. He was thinner, his hair shorter, more roughly cut and his face was now covered in a thick beard. But his voice was the same.

"_Alvarr?!_" Morgana whispered in disbelief. The man nodded and stepped fully into the tent, allowing Morgana to see his face.

"Yes," he confirmed, smiling a triumphant smile. "We meet again, Lady Morgana."

* * *

Alvarr had been called many things in his lifetime, but one thing he was never known as was a fool. When Sefa had come running back into camp spouting off about a magical woman in the woods, Alvarr had been tempted to ignore the mousy girl. But her description of the woman was one that Alvarr would have been utterly foolish to brush off as no one important.

The Lady Morgana was feared universally across the five kingdoms. Her thirst for vengeance and unyielding drive for the throne of Camelot combined with her sheer power made her a force to be reckoned with. Though to be an ally of the witch was often little better than being an enemy. The tenderhearted young woman that had swooned in Alvarr's presence and folded under his urgings was long gone. Now Morgana Pendragon was cold, unmoveable and utterly dangerous. Some might say anyone was a fool to ally themselves with her, but Alvarr thought he'd be foolish _not _to.

Besides, the former druid figured that he owed the witch at least one favor in return for her help in his escape from Uther's dungeon all those years ago. Alvarr only hoped that he wouldn't regret it.

* * *

Morgana sat beside the camp's central fire, instructing Alvarr to have some food and drink brought to her. The nomadic man had changed very little since he had come to Camelot with Mordred all those years ago. Perhaps a new scar or two littered his older face, but he was still arrogant, albeit disarmingly charismatic. Morgana did not miss how Sefa hung on Alvarr's every word or how the young girl watched the older man with adoration. The High Priestess scoffed to herself at the display, not wanting the very visible reminder of how she herself had acted towards the man when she had first met him. Morgana was determined not to fall into such failings again. She was certain that it wouldn't be an issue though. While Alvarr had changed very little, Morgana's transformation during the same time period had been significant. She was now much more versed in magic and in the ways of the world. She was definitely the superior now.

"What brings you to our humble corner of the forest?" Alvarr said, sitting closer than was appropriate. His lips were turned upwards with an engaging grin, distracting the witch from her internal musings. Sefa gave Alvarr an injured look, which Morgana wanted to roll her eyes at, but refrained. She didn't want to alienate the girl, as she may yet have some use for her. Morgana eyed Alvarr blankly for a moment, tempted to ignore the man to see how he would react; how far he would go to gain her favor. When they had met before, Alvarr had seemed mysterious. His enigmatic and charming nature was partly what drew Morgana to him. Now the high priestess knew better; she knew that Alvarr had played her for the clueless fool that she had been. _Toyed _with her vulnerabilities and used her for his own ends.

As Uther's young, naive ward, Morgana had seen Alvarr as powerful. But now Morgana knew that it was Alvarr's charisma that was his greatest strength. That was why he'd needed Mordred to wield the crystal and why he needed Morgana to help him steal it. Alvarr's magic was but a flickering candle compared to the blazing wealth of power that flowed through her own veins.

"I had some dealings with King Odin," Morgana finally admitted, putting on her own flirtatious grin. She had learned much over the last seven years, including how to use her own considerable charm to convince others to do her will. _Especially _when those others were weaker men. It was time to turn the tables.

"You were working with Odin?!" Sefa interjected.

"Yes. We joined together against a common enemy. It isn't unusual. With any luck he caught up with the fleeing coward and ran him through," Morgana growled.

Alvarr and Sefa looked to one another with wide eyes.

"You've not heard, then?" Alvarr asked tentatively.

"What do you know?" Morgana hissed, her flirtatious air dropping instantly.

Alvarr subconsciously sat a bit further back from the glaring witch. The movement did not go unnoticed by Morgana; she had to bite back the pleased grin that threatened to bloom across her face. She had Alvarr right where she wanted him.

"Yesterday one of my men was in a nearby village for supplies. While he was there, a messenger came from the citadel. Just two days ago, Camelot signed a joint truce with Nemeth and Meredor."

Morgana sat still and silent for nearly a full minute while she processed Alvarr's news. It grated against everything that Morgana was to have either Arthur or his shadow puppet Emrys turn yet another ally against her. Annis, then Alator, Mordred and now Odin. Morgana took a deep breath, nearly trembling in fury.

"Was it Arthur that injured you?" Sefa asked, not unkindly.

"Arthur is no threat to me," Morgana spat. "He's been lucky in the past, but his fortune will not last. The only person with any hope of surviving against me is Emrys."

"_Emrys?!_" Alvarr exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Emrys _lives_?"

"He does, though with any luck, he won't for much longer. I will not rest until he and his precious Arthur are _dead_," Morgana vowed fiercely, grinding her teeth in pure fury. "I mean to seek out Alator of the Catha. He knows who Emrys truly is, though he won't be easy to find, nor will he be willing to talk."

"Mordred once spoke of Emrys, when the boy was part of our group," Alvarr mused, trailing off invitingly, a knowing glint in his eye. He wasn't stupid. He knew that Morgana would be interested in any information he had. Willing, even, to pay for that information. In gold, favors, or power, Alvarr did not care, so long as he was paid.

"Mordred?!" Morgana asked, seething once more at the thought of the back-stabbing wretch.

"Yes. The boy acted as though he was indebted to the man, yet he spoke of him begrudgingly."

"_Mordred_ knows who Emrys is?"

"I assumed at the time that he was just telling stories. All young boys like to spin a fantastic tale, after all. But he spoke as though he was familiar with the man," Alvarr confirmed, his smile growing. Morgana's face morphed from furious, to contemplative, to triumphant in less than a minute.

"We need to lay a trap," Morgana said, standing to pace around the fire and taking command of the small group of rogue magic users. "Luring one low-ranking knight out of Camelot would be much easier than torturing an answer from a Catha Priest."

"It might not be so easy as you think," Alvarr protested, not eager to repeat the numerous run-ins he had had with Camelot's knights.

"For _you_, perhaps it wouldn't be," Morgana said, pausing to look haughtily at her newest soldier. Then her lips turned up in a chilling smile. "But for _me_, it will be like _child's play._"

"The knights rarely leave the city except in groups. Ambushing a patrol from Camelot isn't child's play, it's suicide," Alvarr disagreed, fighting against the shiver that threatened at the look on Morgana's face.

"I have my methods," the witch said, walking away from the fire. She could feel Alvarr's eyes following her as Morgana made her way back to the tent she had awakened in. At the door, she stopped and looked back, raising her eyebrow and smirking confidently at the nomad. Then her expression abruptly turned cold and distant. "Don't make me test them on _you_."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Who's ready to get back to Merlin and Mithian now? ;)


	4. An Offer

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** Merthian/Arwen

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks for all the awesome reviews! I figured you guys would be anxious for this chapter after the last one, and I think you'll all be pleased. :) **

* * *

**An Offer**

Two days after the celebratory feast, Mithian stood beside her father on the stairs outside the palace as Arthur and Gwen said their farewells to King Odin. The inhabitants of Camelot's elegant palace were entirely glad to see their new ally leave. Mithian had endured far too many appraising gazes since Odin had voiced his interest in her. It had left their common mealtimes rather tense. Mithian had felt sorry for Arthur, as the King of Camelot had been forced to mediate between Odin and Rodor over the unwanted attentions. Even the ever-patient Guinevere could not hide her displeasure; Merlin had been invaluable in defusing the tensions that hung around the royal supper table like a rain cloud.

Mithian turned her head slightly in an effort to catch a glimpse of said manservant, positioned as he was a few steps behind Arthur and Guinevere. He stood respectfully, hands clasped behind his back, and head lowered in deference. However, from where she stood on the steps, Mithian could see the impertinent grin that Merlin was struggling to contain. Odin mentioned something about visiting again that Mithian couldn't be bothered to listen to; Merlin had just bit down on his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. Mithian pressed her lips firmly together to contain her own grin as she watched Merlin struggle with his. The sound of horse's hooves retreating over the cobblestones forced Mithian to turn away from her study just as Merlin smiled brightly.

"Thank the gods that's over," King Arthur muttered irreverently as he too let his formal decorum slip with a long sigh. Guinevere smiled at her husband's relief and laughed.

"Glad to see him go, are you?" The queen chuckled.

"Of course I am, do not deny that you are happy to see him go," Arthur answered, smiling at his wife.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Guinevere replied, glancing at Mithian and rolling her eyes in fond exasperation as Arthur complained of Odin's trying personality. The royals turned then and began climbing the stairs. Merlin waited on the steps for a few seconds after the king and queen had disappeared inside. Mithian eyed him curiously, and had just opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when Merlin held a finger to his lips.

"Wait for it..." he said, smiling widely at Mithian's confusion, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Any second now..."

"Merlin! Get your lazy backside moving!" Arthur's disembodied voice bellowed from within the entry.

"And there it is," Merlin chuckled; Mithian laughed delightedly at being let in on Merlin's joke.

"You've got him well trained," Mithian teased.

"As any good servant does," Merlin confirmed with mock solemnity.

"NOW!"

"And that is my cue to get moving," Merlin said cheekily; granting Mithian a playful grin and a farewell nod, he followed sedately after his king and queen, Mithian's delighted laughter in his wake.

* * *

King Rodor was healing well, though the week in captivity with Morgana and Odin seemed to have aged him more than the last few years had. Even so, Gaius expected the King of Nemeth to be rested sufficiently to make the journey home within the next seven to ten days. Mithian had bittersweet feelings on the thought of returning to Nemeth. While she was grateful to see her home freed from a twisted man's tyranny, there was something about Camelot that drew Mithian in.

It was that evening as Mithian was preparing for bed that she felt the magical bracelet that Morgana had locked onto the princess' wrist begin to warm. Mithian looked down at it in alarm, her heart pounding at the memory of the pain the witch had inflicted. As it heated further, it caused her to cry out in panic and wildly look around the otherwise-empty room. Mithian calmed somewhat when she recalled what Morgana had said about the nature of the bracelet. The witch had promised rather gleefully that she didn't _have_ to be nearby to cause the princess excruciating pain. Mithian calmed further when it became apparent that the bracelet was not going to heat up to its full, red-hot potential. The princess could only hope that the lesser heat meant Morgana was a long ways away.

Though the warmth emanating from the bracelet wasn't as intense as when Morgana was right beside her, it was painful enough to cause her eyes to sting. It aggravated the still-healing burn that Morgana had already seared into the princess' wrist, causing small blisters to form. Unfortunately, though she struggled and strained, all of Mithian's best efforts to remove the band around her wrist were in vain. Morgana's smug assurances that only magic could remove the item were not in jest. The more Mithian pulled on the bracelet, the further the encircling band tightened. It was not long until it was not the warmth that pained her, but the very snug fit. Mithian growled in hopeless frustration before she remembered that she knew someone who could take the blasted thing off without a problem.

_Merlin_.

Much as she had while trying to escape Morgana, Mithian darted out of her chambers, not caring that she was dressed only in her nightgown.

* * *

"Merlin, be sure that you grind that particular root very fine. It can be quite noxious if it isn't mixed properly and it mixes best when finely ground," Gaius said from where he sat across from his ward. Merlin paused in his task and looked at Gaius incredulously, wondering just what the physician meant by 'noxious.'

"I'm to come out in hives or boils after doing this, am I?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Only if you licked the pestle," the physician dryly replied without looking up from his book. Merlin grimaced.

"Why in the name of magic would I lick the pestle?! This thing smells like Arthur's socks after hours of training!"

"Then why are you worried about hives and boils?" Gaius asked unconcernedly, turning the page and grabbing his magnifying glass to study something closer. Merlin chuckled under his breath and shook his head in fond exasperation. Gaius certainly hadn't lost his sharp wit in his advanced years.

Merlin had just opened his mouth to deliver his own witty retort when the door to the chamber burst open, startling both men. Gaius only just managed to cut off his irritated reprimand when he realized that it was Princess Mithian in the doorway.

"Mithian!" Merlin exclaimed in surprise, looking to Gaius only to see his mentor's raised eyebrow. "I mean... _Princess _Mithian!" Merlin corrected.

"What can we help you with, Your Highness?" Gaius asked, more appropriately.

"It's just that... I... It's this..." Mithian suddenly bit her lip and looked over her shoulder into the corridor before hurriedly shutting the door and sliding the bolt into the lock. Merlin turned to Gaius, the both of them wearing matching expressions of surprise.

"Please, I need help getting this off," Mithian said, holding out her right arm, showing the bracelet and the burn that had blistered with the additional heat and her attempts to remove the band herself.

Merlin and Gaius were instantly on their feet, hurrying to the Princess to examine her wrist.

"What is this?" Gaius asked, turning the princess' hand over to see all of the markings inscribed into the metal.

"Morgana put this on you, didn't she?" Merlin asked, instantly recognizing what had happened. "You were never bound after Odin took Nemeth, were you?"

Mithian's face crumpled in her shame and she shook her head no. Merlin nodded in sympathy and squeezed her upper arm comfortingly, offering her a friendly smile.

"I wanted to tell you, when you asked. But she was right there; she had been using the bracelet to punish me when I tried to escape."

"I'm afraid that this cannot be removed except with powerful magic, Your Highness," Gaius said worriedly, trading a loaded glance with Merlin.

"That shouldn't be a problem though, right Merlin?" Mithian asked, looking boldly into the warlock's eyes. Gaius' eyes widened, and his eyebrow rose nearly to his hairline. Merlin felt the blood drain entirely from his face and he instinctively took a step back.

"_What_?" Merlin rasped out, his heart in his throat at the knowing look in Mithian's eyes.

"You could remove this, couldn't you?" Mithian asked pointedly, hope shining in her expression.

"I don't know what you mean," Merlin said, his throat closing in mild panic as he shook his head and tried to look as innocent as possible.

"I _saw _you, Merlin; I know what you are. Back at the tomb, your eyes glowed gold with magic. _You _caused that tremor. If that's not powerful magic, then I don't know what is, " Mithian said kindly in a soft whisper, though her voice strengthened with resolve with her next words. "It was not long afterwards that I realized, _I don't care_. I am here, in secret, asking you to _use _it, after all."

Merlin exhaled the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and sat heavily on the tabletop behind him.

"You've not said anything," Merlin said shakily, unable to understand why the princess hadn't outed him the moment she'd seen his eyes glowing.

"Well," Mithian smiled mischievously. "Neither have _you_."

Merlin let out a breath of relief, and chuckled humorlessly.

"I knew of your magic for less than half an hour before I knew I would die before I exposed you," Mithian said, her voice steady and utterly serious. Merlin gave a grateful nod, knowing instinctively that Mithian was true to her word, and that she would not betray him.

"This is dangerous information, Princess," Gaius said gravely, finally finding his voice. "You are committing treason against the crown of Camelot, you understand. Not to mention your own father."

"Of course I understand, Gaius," Mithian said seriously, looking between the two gobsmacked men. "But it would seem I'm _not alone_ in my treason."

Merlin did not miss the emphasis Mithian placed on '_not alone_' as she had looked directly into his eyes. She was offering to be his friend, his _confidante_, in this monumental secret separating Merlin from everyone around him. The warlock and princess had yet to break eye-contact, speaking volumes within that one look. Finally, Mithian smiled impishly at Merlin, who laughed shakily and returned her smile, cementing the unspoken pact between them. Gaius looked knowingly between the two and stepped quietly back to his table, leaving them in semi-privacy.

"Please?" Mithian asked, holding her arm towards Merlin imploringly. His eyes softened as he stood once more and took Mithian's wrist to study the markings on the bracelet for himself. Mithian held her breath as Merlin's long fingers turned her hand to and fro, gently brushing her tender skin and sending a pleasant tingle up her arm. Mithian only just managed to stifle the shiver that desperately wanted to race down her spine.

"_Á__birsteaþ sé earmbéag,_" Merlin finally whispered. Mithian watched transfixed as Merlin's eyes flared a brilliant, beautiful gold and the band fell away in two pieces. Neither spoke for a few minutes; Merlin avoided looking at Mithian's face by further inspecting the burn and scrapes around her wrist. He gestured wordlessly for her to follow him and led her to Gaius' wash basin. With a gentle, practiced touch, Merlin cleaned her injured wrist with a wash rag, then pulled her to the work table where he rummaged around until he found Gaius' healing balm and a length of linen bandaging.

"Why do you stay here?" Mithian whispered, her heart hurting for the secrecy that shrouded Merlin from his friends.

"It's as good a place as any," Merlin said softly. Mithian shook her head in disbelief.

"You've got to be in the _worst _place, the _worst _position possible for a sorcerer, Merlin," Mithian whispered as the manservant expertly tended to her wrist.

"Warlock," Merlin said, finishing his task and finally meeting Mithian's eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, her face showing her confusion.

"I am not a sorcerer, I am a warlock."

"I'm guessing there's a difference, but you'll have to tell me what that is," Mithian chuckled. Merlin smiled at her easy acceptance and elaborated.

"I was born with magic; I've never known a time that I _didn't_ have it. I could use it, manipulate it before I could talk."

"That's unusual, I suppose?"

"I suppose so," Merlin agreed simply, smiling at Mithian's trusting curiosity.

"Yes, he's entirely unusual," Gaius interjected dryly, reminding them of his presence. Mithian smiled in the physician's direction, though Gaius continued to look at his book as though he'd never spoken.

"Are you telling me that Merlin's completely strange or that he's just being modest?"

"It's entirely unusual that Merlin still has a head on his shoulders," Gaius said grumpily in answer, causing Mithian to laugh at the blush staining Merlin's cheeks. "And yes, he's being modest," Gaius admitted, still studying the tome in front of him. Mithian could see the pride in the physician's features, though. There was no doubt of the older man's true opinion of the lanky warlock. Mithian turned back to Merlin, surprised to see traces of anguish on his brow.

"I shouldn't have told you. This is very dangerous for you," Merlin whispered sadly, realizing that it was a little late for his remorse. There was just some facet of Mithian's character that completely disarmed his quick denials and reluctant lies. Mithian watched mesmerized as Merlin's face shifted through several emotions, his eyes most clearly betraying how vulnerable he was at that moment.

"No, you can't say that. Besides, You didn't tell me anything, I already knew. I simply forced a confirmation out of you. You can trust me. I'll not tell a soul," Mithian vowed, her honesty completely transparent.

"That won't matter if it comes to light that you knew but said nothing," Merlin argued, entirely conflicted.

"And that was _my _choice, wasn't it?" Mithian asked rhetorically, her expression firm. "But you didn't really answer my original question. Why are you _here_, in _Camelot_?"

Merlin studied her face for a moment, knowing Mithian would not be dissuaded. Then he took a deep breath and slowly released it.

"What do you know of the druids?" he asked.

"The druids?" Mithian asked, surprised at Merlin's seemingly random response.

"Yes, though more their legends than the people themselves," Merlin clarified.

"The Druids in Nemeth keep to the forest, eschewing the cities as a general rule. I know a few stories, though not faithfully. But I've heard plenty of bard's songs and my tutors told me many stories when I was a girl."

"Have you ever heard of The Once and Future King?"

"Yes! I used to love that story as a child," Mithian brightened, remembering the numerous times she had requested that particular tale. "I begged my nursemaid many times to tell me the story of the king so good and noble that magic would raise him again when the land needed him most. Though eventually I outgrew my nursemaid and my tutors refused to tell that story. They insisted that it wasn't suitable because it glorified magic."

"It's not just a story, it's actually a druidic prophecy," Merlin explained, gauging Mithian's expression. He continued when Mithian's brow furrowed in confusion. "_Arthur_ is The Once and Future King," Merlin continued. Mithian's eyes widened as his words settled into her brain and she gasped as she looked Merlin in the eye.

"_You were born with it..._" she whispered, her mouth dropping open in shock. "_Emrys.._."

"So you do know the story," Merlin murmured, suddenly glad that he didn't have to explain something that still sent him reeling at the thought. He smiled a sheepish smile when Mithian reached out for the edge of the table to steady herself.

"_You_ are Emrys," Mithian stated plainly. "The greatest sorcerer to walk these lands?"

"Well, _warlock_. I'm not sure about the greatest bit, but supposedly, yes," Merlin admitted, his expression wrinkling in embarrassment.

"And yet you are Arthur's _servant_."

"One and the same," Merlin answered with a cheeky grin.

"You scrub his socks and chamber pot," Mithian said, struggling to remain straight-faced. Merlin nodded with mock solemnity.

"With _magic_, no less," he whispered conspiratorially. The irony was too much. Mithian bit her lip, trying not to laugh, but one look at Merlin's sparkling eyes and she couldn't hold back. In a matter of seconds the both of them were laughing hysterically, their eyes streaming with tears and and their faces red.

"Are you two just about finished?" Gaius drawled, though he too was smiling. He had _never _seen his ward quite like this; it was refreshing to see some of the burden of Merlin's destiny lifted from his shoulders, if only momentarily. With a final sigh and a wipe of their eyes, Merlin and Mithian finally calmed down enough to stop laughing. Then Merlin's expression grew curious.

"We've been back in Camelot for two days now. You've known about my magic since before we returned. What made you wait until tonight to try and get that bracelet off?"

"To be honest, I had forgotten about it in all the stress of the negotiations. It hadn't so much as twinged. But tonight as I was preparing for bed, it began to heat up and I was panicking, trying to pry it off by myself. I had just about given up hope until I remembered that _you_ would be able to remove it for me."

"It was getting hot? Tonight?! How was it activated before? Was there a certain trigger or did Morgana have to control it?" Merlin asked, somewhat alarmed at the possibility that Morgana was near or even in Camelot.

"She was the one to make it burn; it only tightened if I tried to take it off. But it didn't get very warm this time. Before, when she was right next to me, it became red hot- like a poker left too long in the flames. This time it merely felt like a warming stone left a bit long on the hearth. Hot, but not unbearable, except that it did more damage to my already injured wrist."

"Still, she can't have been very far away, to have been able to activate the spell on this," Merlin said, bending to pick up the two halves of the bracelet. Gaius, who had been following Merlin's train of thought, came to join him in scrutinizing the broken jewelry pieces.

"This spell may have had a range of a few miles," Gaius said after a moment's inspection. "Morgana would have wanted a failsafe if she and Mithian had somehow been separated on the ride from Nemeth or if the princess had tried to run."

"She only ever triggered it when she was right beside me," Mithian added, thrilled to be a part of Merlin's secret world.

"I'm sure she wouldn't have risked using it while you were here in Camelot unless she could see you. If anyone else had been witness to the punishment, Morgana's entire facade would have collapsed and Arthur wouldn't have left the castle," Gaius theorized.

"I wonder..." Merlin murmured, placing the half that he was studying upon his open palm and closing his eyes. Concentrating on the trace of magic left in the bracelet, Merlin expanded his awareness and followed the trail of magical energy with his mind. Within the forest a few miles outside the city, the trail faded into nothing. If Morgana had been there earlier, she was gone now.

"She must have transported herself; her trail disappears a few miles beyond the city," he said, opening his eyes.

"How did you do that?" Gaius asked incredulously.

"I just followed her magical signature from the bracelet with my mind. It was fairly simp-" Merlin began. Gaius' expression however, made him falter.

"What?"

"How you can be so brilliant one moment and so foolish the next never ceases to amaze me," Gaius said, causing Merlin's face to redden and Mithian to laugh.

"Do you think we should tell Arthur about it?" Mithian asked, her smile fading. Merlin looked to Gaius, an entire conversation passing between them in one glance.

"I'm not sure it will be necessary," Gaius began. "Morgana is long gone by now if she used a transportation spell. She has little to draw her in until she's gained a new ally and had time to lay her next plan."

"You think there _will _be a next plan?" Mithian asked, though the look on Merlin and Gaius' faces said enough.

"As long as Morgana lives and breathes, she will have a 'next plan,'" Merlin said ruefully.

"She has moved beyond vengeful, and into madness," Gaius said sadly, his eyes shining with regret as he thought of the young woman who had often visited his chambers seeking the answers that her father had denied her.

"Then we'd best be ready when she does," Mithian said fiercely, unwilling to be Morgana's pawn a second time.

"We will be," Merlin promised, looking at Mithian reassuringly as he fought the urge to reach for her hand. It caused an unusual warmth in his chest to hear Mithian include herself in protecting Camelot.

Gaius smiled at Merlin and Mithian then left the two of them alone and returned to his books once more. The princess shivered, suddenly realizing how cold she was in just her nightdress. Merlin looked down at her curiously, then his eyes widened comically.

"I'm so sorry, Mithian, I've been utterly thoughtless. You must be freezing," Merlin babbled, taking off his own coat and helping her into it. His fingers brushed over her shoulders and down her arms out of habit; the many years of dressing Arthur making the gesture second nature. Merlin fussed with the collar a bit and went about tugging and brushing at the jacket in an effort to help it sit better on the princess' shoulders, but he stopped himself when he looked up from his task and saw the princess smirking at him. His cheeks reddened slightly and he coughed to cover his embarrassment before leading Mithian to a seat at the hearth to warm her before she made the journey back to her quarters.

"_Forbearnan,"_ Merlin murmured, ignoring the flint and Gaius' disapproving eyebrow as he ignited the waiting logs with magic and stoking it to a warm blaze. Just as he had been many years before with Freya, Merlin was amazed at how freeing it was to do magic in front of Mithian. He felt giddy and suddenly, nothing seemed insurmountable. His burdens seemed lighter and Merlin thought that if he wasn't careful, he might just float into the air.

"Tell me more of what a secret warlock does in Camelot," Mithian entreated as Merlin dusted off his hands and sat on the floor beside her chair. Merlin laughed, his eyes flashing with mischief.

"Did Arthur ever tell you how I first met him?"

Mithian shook her head, a playful and eager smile on her lips as she gripped the warm material of Merlin's jacket in her fists and wrapped it more snugly around herself. The earthy, manly scent that permeated the garment filled Mithian's senses, and she found herself relaxing as she settled in to hear Merlin's tale.

"It was just my second day in Camelot. I didn't even know _who _Arthur was," Merlin began as he launched into a story that involved him, a dollop-headed prince, a couple of maces and the marketplace.

* * *

The following night, Mithian found herself restless as she tried settling into her bed. She'd had a fairly busy day with the queen and felt weary, yet Mithian was surprised to find herself unable to fall asleep. A few moments later, Mithian realized that she was absentmindedly rubbing at her bandaged wrist which inevitably reminded her of Merlin and his careful touch and tender care.

Mithian reached under the many pillows piled on her bed and pulled out the threadbare jacket that Merlin had draped around her the night before. Pressing it to her face, Mithian breathed in the combination of scents. Soot, herb, earth and something undefinable that was uniquely Merlin. Somehow, the scents blended together into a combination that was incredibly soothing. Mithian felt a bit guilty for keeping it, seeing as the manservant likely had no other, but the princess felt rather attached to the garment. Though if Mithian were honest, she would have to concede that it wasn't the jacket that she was drawn to, so much as its owner.

The princess smiled and replaced the well-worn jacket beneath her pillow. She didn't intend to keep it _permanently_; just until she had to return to Nemeth. Though the thought made her invariably sad. She was thinking of presenting Merlin with a new coat (he could certainly use one) simply so that she could take the old one home with her to Nemeth. Mithian sighed at herself, acting like an infatuated young girl over a coat. She was beginning to strongly suspect that the thin servant-warlock was at the root of her reluctance to return to Nemeth. Shaking her head, Mithian stood and, remembering at the last moment to put on her dressing gown, headed towards the physician's chambers.

Gaius was standing over a foul-smelling concoction of some sort when the princess slipped inside his door. Her eyes darted around, seeking a familiar form, but he wasn't to be seen.

"Can I help you Princess?"

Mithian startled, looking back to the expectant face of Camelot's court physician.

"My wrist," she offered in hurried explanation. "I was wondering if perhaps the bandage needed changing."

"Ahh, I'm sure it does, come and sit down and I'll have a look."

Mithian obediently sat in the chair Gaius indicated, trying to squash down the disappointment she felt at Merlin's absence.

"There, that should do it," Gaius said a moment later. "It's healing nicely. You should be fine to remove it in the morning and go without it."

"Thank y-"

Mithian was interrupted when the door opened suddenly and Merlin came in with a heavy pile of armor.

"That Dollophe- Mithian!" Merlin exclaimed, immediately swallowing his complaint as his face reddened and his heartbeat quickened unexpectedly at the sight of the princess.

"Good evening, Merlin," Mithian greeted, smiling indulgently at the warlock. "Bringing your work home?"

"Yes," Merlin said exasperatedly. "No rest for the wicked, and all."

"You are far from wicked," Mithian laughed.

"You might rethink that if you heard more of what I've done over the years," Merlin said sadly.

"I refuse to believe it on your word alone, so you will just have to relate some of these tales so that I might make a well-informed decision," Mithian said with mock solemnity. Merlin smiled and jerked his head towards the fire where they had spoken long into the previous night.

"Shall I start with the worst of them?" Merlin asked ruefully.

"I'm sure it can't be any worse than knowingly leading your friends and allies into a trap," Mithian said soberly. Merlin scoffed.

"I'm sure releasing a vengeful dragon on your friends is much worse than that," Merlin said lightly, unwittingly triggering Mithian's competitive nature.

"I'm sure you had your reasons, mine were purely selfish, I'm afraid."

"You? Selfish? I can hardly believe it," Merlin replied.

"Utterly selfish," Mithian insisted, smiling at Merlin encouragingly. "A _dragon_, you say?"

Merlin picked up a rag and Arthur's breastplate, polishing the metal slowly as he pondered where exactly to begin. The warlock raised an eyebrow at Mithian when the princess picked up a gauntlet and another rag.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping. You seem to have an unnatural aversion to _help_, Merlin."

The both of them ignored the irreverent snort that Gaius immediately stifled.

"You're a princess, you don't need to be doing this," Merlin said mulishly.

"Was your queen not once a blacksmith's daughter, accustomed to working a forge and wielding a sword? I am no different; the circumstances of our births may set us apart, but I am not your average princess. Women can work, too, you know."

"Believe me, I know. You should meet my mother."

"And I hope someday to meet her. Until then, let me help," Mithian chided. Merlin conceded with a small bow and a grin before he lapsed into silence, contemplating where to begin.

"My story is rather troublesome, full of betrayal and too many deaths. It started with a promise that I made long before I freed the dragon..." Merlin finally began, pulling Mithian into his story, unknowingly earning her forgiveness long before the tale was complete.

* * *

Merlin was the one mixing some sort of sickly-smelling remedy when Mithian slipped into Gaius' chambers the following night. The physician himself looked up from his reading when he heard the door latch shut.

"I suppose your wrist is bothering you again, Princess?" he asked kindly. It was clear to Mithian that the physician didn't believe his own words, though she was grateful for his pretense.

"Mithian," Merlin greeted happily, then his brow furrowed at her bare and clearly-healing wrist. "Is something else ailing you?"

"No actually," Mithian admitted, looking down at her fidgeting fingers sheepishly.

"What is it? Is it your father?" Merlin asked worriedly, though the princess shook her head.

"My chambers were just a bit too quiet."

"Merlin has _always_ been an excellent remedy for _quiet_," Gaius said mirthfully, earning a playful glare from his ward.

"That is _exactly _what I was hoping for," Mithian admitted without guile. "I've enjoyed our conversations very much these last two nights."

Merlin smiled, finishing with his task and leading the princess over to the fire once again.

"Tonight, I'll tell you how Arthur created his Round Table Council," Merlin promised, his eyes glinting with enthusiasm. Mithian smiled, matching the warlock's enthusiasm as he began to enthrall her with the power of his words and the soothing tones of his voice.

Merlin was an excellent and engaging storyteller, Mithian decided several hours later. Talking by the fireside with the warlock was just the remedy for her quiet chambers she'd been looking for. Then Gaius had started to snore rather loudly, distracting them during a particularly humorous story involving a set of keys and a bowl of soup. Mithian yawned in the sudden silence, only then realizing how tired she was.

"I'm so sorry, I'm keeping you from your rest," Merlin apologized.

"Nonsense. _I'm _the one in _your _chambers, keeping _you _from _your _rest," Mithian teased, standing up.

"It's very late. Let me escort you back to your chambers. The castle isn't the best place to be wandering at night."

Mithian smiled, charmed that Merlin worried for her safety in what was purported to be one of the most secure citadels in all the five kingdoms.

"Sleep well, Mithian," Merlin entreated softly when they reached the princess' door.

"You as well," she responded, looking in either direction down the deserted corridor before placing a swift kiss upon Merlin's cheek.

"Goodnight," she said, spinning around quickly and darting into her chambers. Mithian looked at the servant one last time as she eased the door shut, laughing softly at Merlin's gormless expression. The warlock stood there in the dark for another couple minutes before he pulled himself from his stupor.

"Goodnight," he murmured to the door, then he walked back to his chambers, rubbing his tingling cheek the whole way.

* * *

Mithian pressed herself into the door, her heart flying in her chest as she fought down the giddy elation that permeated her entire being.

"_Goodnight_..." Merlin's voice sounded through the door, and Mithian had to fight down a nervous giggle that threatened to erupt. She hadn't planned on pressing a kiss to Merlin's cheek until they had stopped in front of her chambers. Mithian had very little courting experience; her brief betrothal to Arthur having been as close to courting and marriage as she had ever been. But Mithian could no longer deny that Merlin was very close to being her favorite part of being in Camelot.

Taking a deep breath, Mithian moved further into her room after she'd heard Merlin's footsteps retreating down the passageway. As she prepared herself for bed, she realized that it was later than she had supposed it to be. There was a certain stillness and darkness that hung over her room like a shadow. What sounds could be heard seemed monstrously loud. An owl out for a hunt let out a low, plaintive hoot, sending a shiver down Mithian's spine. A gust of wind hurtled across her windows, rattling the glass in the pane and dousing the lone candle burning on the sill. Though she had been giddy and elated just moments before, Mithian now felt frightened and anxious.

"I suppose I didn't get away from Morgana as spotless as I'd supposed," Mithian murmured to herself as she lit another candle from the table and made to peer in all the dark shadows. After her impromptu search turned up nothing, Mithian looked around at the room. It suddenly seemed far too large for just her. She was tempted to run out the door and head straight back to the physician's chamber, but Mithian shook her head at her foolishness.

"You were just there. You cannot go running back to him everytime the wind howls."

Of course, there was no answering reply, and Mithian felt another irrational stab of fear as the shutters clanged against the outside wall in the wind.

"What does father always say? Lock your door, Mithian." The princess wasted no further time but rushed to the door and slid the bolt home, securing herself within the room before setting her candle in the center of the table.

"Sleep," the princess murmured, moving to the bed and jumping into it, pulling the covers to her chin and watching the candle burn down. When sunlight roused her the next morning, Mithian felt as though she'd barely laid her head down. She felt silly about her inexplicable fear now, in the full light of day, but in the darkness, every rustle of the wind had brought visions of Morgana's angry face and gold-glowing eyes to mind.

Determined to get a bit more sleep, Mithian turned her back to the window, trying to relax into the downy mattress. Mithian was just slipping into a light slumber when a soft knock sounded on her door. She tried to ignore the sound, but then it came again a few moments later. Mithian assumed that it was a servant with breakfast and figured that they could just leave it on the table. Then the quiet knock sounded again, and Mithian had the sudden recollection of bolting her door before climbing into bed.

With a sigh, Mithian got up to answer the persistent knock, resigned to giving up on her quest for more sleep. Another soft tap, tap, tap was followed momentarily by the latch unlocking quietly, unaccompanied by the sound of a turning key. The door swung open slightly and Mithian froze in a moment of panic, realizing that her door had just been opened with magic. Her eyes swiftly sought anything nearby that she might use as a weapon when a welcome, dark-haired head peered into the room.

"Mithian!"

"Merlin!" the princess exclaimed, pleasantly surprised and more than a little relieved to see that it was him and not Morgana, as she had initially feared. Then she felt even sillier, for why would Morgana knock?

"Sorry, I-"

"Did knock," Mithian finished with him, recalling how Merlin had said the very same thing a few nights ago when he had brought her a draft from Gaius. Merlin smiled guiltily and then looked questioningly between her and the recently locked door.

"I felt a bit safer with the door locked," she admitted sheepishly before pushing her chagrin aside and smiling. Merlin nodded and then looked closer at the princess.

"Did you not sleep well, Mithian?" Merlin asked, taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"No, I guess it took me awhile to fall asleep," the princess admitted. Merlin looked at her guiltily.

"I've been keeping you up too late these last few nights, I'm sorry," he said sheepishly.

"No, you haven't kept me up, I've kept myself up. You've nothing to be sorry for; I have enjoyed hearing your stories, after all, and it's not every night I'm valiantly escorted through the castle," Mithian said, grinning impishly.

Merlin smiled, remembering the kiss she had bestowed upon his cheek and wishing he could return the favor. Then the warlock tilted his head in contemplation, thinking of a way that he could do just that before latching the door shut behind him. Mithian smiled, but put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrow in question.

"I just had an idea. I thought, if you were willing, I mean, I could try and give you a little energy."

"You can do that?" Mithian asked, surprised.

"I don't know," Merlin shrugged. "Most of the time I never know what exactly I can do. I just sort of go with it and figure things out along the way," Merlin admitted, much to Mithian's amusement.

"Well then, what did you have in mind?" Mithian asked. Merlin pursed his lips and reached for Mithian's shoulder. Concentrating on his power, Merlin directed it through his hand and suffused Mithian with a wave of magic. Instantly, her eyes brightened and the dark circles beneath them faded away.

Mithian closed her eyes as the warm sensation continued to surge into her body through Merlin's hand still resting on her shoulder. Therefore she was utterly surprised when she felt Merlin's warm, soft lips brush across the apple of her cheek. Mithian gasped at the tingle that shot through her, opening her eyes to meet Merlin's deep blue gaze. The princess put a hand to her cheek and smiled gratefully as Merlin pulled his hand away and stepped back slightly, his face tinged pink.

"Thank you, Merlin. I truly feel much better," she said, much to Merlin's pleasure. Mithian marveled at the sensation still coursing through her; she felt closer and somehow connected to the warlock on a much deeper level. Merlin felt giddy sharing his magic with Mithian, once again feeling the light, floaty feeling of euphoria as the princess delighted in his gifts in a way that few would.

"What was it that actually brought you here this morning, Merlin?" Mithian asked with a small smile. Merlin blinked, his mind blank for a moment; then he remembered what it was that he was supposed to be doing.

"Oh! Your father has requested that you dine with him and the King and Queen this morning," Merlin explained.

"Ahh. Then I suppose I shall be there momentarily. Could you please send a maid up to help me dress?" Mithian asked, looking down at her nightdress in explanation.

"Of course," Merlin said, blushing as he ducked his head. "I'll send someone right up."

Mithian chuckled as Merlin nodded and hurried off.

* * *

"Mithian, dearest, you're looking much more rested this morning," Rodor said, smiling at Mithian's happy expression. Merlin caught her eye and the two shared a brief, knowing smile as he filled her goblet.

"I am feeling much more rested, father," Mithian confirmed.

"You do seem much more cheerful," Gwen added, prompting Arthur with an elbow to his ribs.

"Yes," Arthur immediately agreed, much to Gwen's satisfaction. Merlin smiled at his friends' interactions and began to circle the table with the breakfast selections, falling into his duties with practiced ease as he served portions from each platter and ensured that the goblets were kept full.

"I wondered if I might speak with you on a matter of some importance, Arthur," Rodor asked after the meal was finished.

"Of course," Arthur entreated, curious as to what Rodor wanted.

"Shall we leave you in privacy?" Mithian offered as Guinevere nodded her agreement.

"No, no, in fact, you are an important part in this." Rodor immediately had everyone's attention, especially Mithian's. Then the King of Nemeth turned back to Arthur and explained, "Odin's desire for Mithian has made me realize that I need to do something more to discourage his advances, while ensuring a good marriage for my daughter."

"And how might _I_ help you with that?" Arthur asked, confused. "Do you hope for a suggestion of an eligible match? I find myself ill-disposed to make such a recommendation."

"No, no. I have a match in mind, one that I feel will strengthen Nemeth's ties with Camelot," Rodor said.

"Please, continue, I'd like to know who this ideal match is," Arthur said, at a loss as to who Rodor could have chosen for Mithian; who it was that Rodor believed would strengthen the ties between their kingdoms.

"This isn't entirely unprecedented, what with your own marriage, so I hope that you'll be open to my request," Rodor continued.

"I'm listening," Arthur promised. Gwen leaned forward, extremely curious. Mithian felt somewhat taken aback; her father had not counseled with her on this. At least with the match with Arthur she'd been given a choice. Now, it seemed she wasn't going to be given much, if any, say in the matter. Mithian absently rubbed a hand over her cheek where Merlin had kissed her. She looked in his direction as surreptitiously as possible while the servant finished pouring a glass of wine for his king. Mithian thought that she could see that the servant's teeth were clenched tightly.

Merlin finished filling Arthur's goblet, trying to control the shaking in his hands, unaware of Mithian's attention. He was taken aback at the feeling of utter disappointment that settled into his gut. Merlin wanted to look over to the princess, but forced himself not to, unable to control the expression on his face well enough. Merlin's lips burned at the memory of pressing a kiss to the princess' cheek not two hours earlier. He hadn't realized how much of his heart he had already given to the princess, and he felt foolish for not keeping his feelings as tightly reined in as he had since Freya's death. Merlin cursed himself, realizing that Mithian's life was not her own. Then Merlin scoffed inwardly at the thought that Mithian would ever want to court _him_. Turning his back on the table, Merlin moved to the side to make a show of organizing the platters while he gained control over himself.

"I'd like to offer Mithian's hand to the most influential man here in Camelot, after yourself, Arthur."

"Please, give us a name, though I cannot imagine who this highly influential man is. I also cannot guarantee anything, Rodor. I don't believe in forcing a marriage simply for the sake of marriage."

"Of course not," Rodor agreed. "Though I think I'm not mistaken in believing that there is already some regard between my daughter and this man."

"I cannot help you if you do not give me a name, Rodor," Arthur said with a chuckle. Rodor looked searchingly into Arthur's eyes for a moment before he spoke without hesitation.

"I'd like to offer Mithian's hand to Merlin, your manservant and dare I say it, your most valued advisor and friend."

Arthur's eyes instantly widened in utter and complete shock.

"_Merlin_?! My _servant_?!" the king exclaimed in disbelief. Rodor smiled inwardly at the fact that Arthur had not outright denied the friendship between himself and Merlin. Gwen, however, elbowed Arthur and gave him a pointed look before she turned to face Rodor, her face lit up in a brilliant smile. Considering his own choice of bride, Arthur couldn't actually find reason to object. Though he would have to think about the influential bit. Merlin and influential didn't correlate in Arthur's mind. Mithian was stunned speechless, though she was hardly surprised at the great rush of relief that followed her father's pronouncement.

Merlin, however, was fortunate to have just placed the pewter jug of wine down on the side table when Rodor named the manservant as his choice for Mithian. If he hadn't, Merlin was sure he would have dropped it. As it was, he could hardly keep on his feet. So great was his shock, he didn't realize that everyone had turned to look at him. Merlin floundered behind him, hoping to grab ahold of the wall or a pillar, anything to support his weight while his legs threatened to give out.

"Merlin?!" Gwen asked, alarmed at how pale the servant's face had become.

"I, I, I... What?" he stammered, grateful when his back finally hit the wall and he slid down it, his legs feeling utterly boneless. He was plagued by thoughts of destiny and how _this _could possibly fit within his. Then Merlin only just managed to quash a hysterical laugh when he thought of what Kilgharrah might say. Rodor stood from the table and slowly approached the stunned manservant, grasped him by the forearm and pulled him to his feet.

"What say you? Will you take my daughter's hand?"

"You realize that I'm just a fatherless peasant? I can offer your daughter no riches or fine things," Merlin croaked.

"You don't see your own worth, Merlin. You have the ear of a powerful king; you are his best and closest friend, one might say. Not to mention that your king, Odin and I are in your debt for our very lives. What you may not be able to provide for my daughter in riches, you make up for in your position of influence. But most of all, I hope you could offer her your heart."

Merlin looked at Rodor; the monarch's grey eyes bore into his own and his hand still gripped Merlin's forearm tightly. For a fleeting moment, Merlin wondered what Rodor would do to him if he declined Mithian's hand. He had never thought seriously of marriage; he had said as much to Gwen just a few days before, but only because of his damned destiny. He had no doubt that he could give Mithian his heart; he had just cursed himself for doing just that. It was undeniable that Mithian was a great friend and confidante; their conversations were easy and enjoyable. Her kiss upon his cheek had certainly stirred things within him that he had thought were long buried. Their camaraderie and Mithian's easy acceptance of just who and what he was, in addition to her promised silence, made Merlin think that it might actually be possible to entertain the idea, destiny be damned. Merlin turned to look at the others to gauge their reaction.

Gwen was giddy in her enthusiasm. She could hardly hold still; Merlin could see her clenching her hands together to keep them from clapping in delight. She was also biting her lip to keep from smiling as widely as Merlin knew she wanted to. Arthur was another story entirely. While he didn't look angry or offended, he looked like he had when Merlin had told him that he'd clubbed the then-prince over the head with a bit of wood.

Finally, Merlin looked to the one who was just as affected by this as he. When his eyes met Mithian's, her expression was not what he had expected. Where he had thought he would see anger and indignation, he saw hope and anticipation. Her eyes sparkled from within as their gaze locked on one another's. Mithian gave him a small grin and nodded ever so slightly, raising her eyebrow as if to say, _I'm game if you are. _

It was that more than anything that finally loosed his frozen tongue. Merlin turned to Rodor and looked him in the eye.

"All those questions at the ruins..." Merlin trailed off, looking at Rodor appraisingly.

"I do admit, I was testing you. I'd heard quite a bit from the knights that accompanied Arthur on his mission to rescue me. They were very complimentary about your character and your efforts to support Camelot . I wanted to see if you were real or if they had just talked up an unconscious man out of pity."

Merlin laughed humorlessly at Rodor's admission.

"What about King Odin? Surely he would be angry that you've refused his offer only to wed your daughter to a manservant?"

"I will worry about Odin," Rodor assured. "Though he ought to know that I would never have considered him for Mithian, even before he invaded my kingdom."

"This is truly what you desire for your daughter?"

"It is. I would like to see her wed before I return to Nemeth," Rodor answered. Merlin's eyes widened; Rodor had, not an hour ago, voiced his hope to be able to return to his kingdom by the end of the week. A mere four days away.

"Then _I_ have an offer for _you_," Merlin suggested, glancing momentarily at Mithian, whose eyes lit with hope. Rodor's eyebrows rose, but he didn't protest. Merlin took it as permission to continue. "I will accept your daughter's hand, under the condition that I have a _month _to properly court her."

Rodor laughed delightedly, then smiled in triumph and nodded his agreement.

"You've just proved my point, Merlin. No mere peasant would dare to _conditionally _accept the offer of a princess' hand in marriage. You are truly an _un_common man."

Rodor clapped Merlin on the shoulder and turned to the still-stunned king at the table.

"Perhaps a promotion is in order for my future son-in-law?"

* * *

Thanks for reading! Is it what you were hoping for?


	5. Preparations

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC. **

**Preparations**

**A/N: I am utterly, completely, and entirely astounded by the response for this story. I am thrilled that it has been received so very well, and I am giddy with the wonderful reviews you've given. Thank you so much, especially to those who are regularly reviewing and also to the guest/anon reviewers that I cannot reply to otherwise. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

* * *

Merlin had no idea how drastically one meal could change things.

Rodor had chuckled heartily at the expression on Arthur's face when the King of Nemeth addressed Merlin as his 'future son-in-law.' Merlin himself hadn't even thought that far ahead; he almost felt as though he needed the wall to support him again. It was Gwen who came to everyone's rescue.

"I think a promotion is actually well overdue," the queen replied, much to Rodor's satisfaction.

"I believe I've stirred the kettle enough for one morning, I'll leave the preparations to the youthful," Rodor chuckled again and made to leave the dining hall, passing Mithian's chair along the way and pausing to give her shoulder a squeeze and plant a kiss at the crown of her head. The doors had closed behind him with an echoing clang, which finally succeeded in helping Arthur find his voice once again.

"What just happened?" he asked, looking at the women seated beside him at the table in utter bewilderment. Merlin stumbled over and slid into the seat Rodor had vacated, indecorously planting his elbows on the table and holding his spinning head in this hands.

"I'm not exactly sure. When you find out, would you let me know?" Merlin asked, much to Gwen and Mithian's amusement.

"I think congratulations are in order!" Gwen said enthusiastically, looking between Merlin and Mithian.

"And a _promotion_, it would seem," Arthur said incredulously, even as his mind wandered back over the indefinable something about Merlin that had long sat at the back of the king's mind. Arthur was not one to be overly effusive towards even his closest friends; his upbringing had ensured that. But he couldn't deny Merlin's influence any longer, at least not inwardly. All of Arthur's greatest trials and triumphs had been with Merlin at his side, more than once with Merlin pushing him reluctantly forward. Arthur suddenly felt more than a little guilty that it had taken Rodor to point out that fact.

"Why do you look so disappointed?! How long have I been doling out advice and encouraging you when you felt hopeless and dragging you out of your sour moods? Is it really that abhorrent of an idea to you?!" Merlin asked defensively, startling the king from his introspection.

"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur replied, though he grunted at the elbow Guinevere planted into his side for the comment. "I didn't mean like that!" he amended.

"What else does idiot imply?" Merlin asked.

"I meant that you're an idiot if you believe me disappointed in you, Merlin. I am disappointed in myself for not doing more for you sooner," Arthur explained, rubbing his fingers along the edge of the table, unable to meet anyone's eye.

"Thank you, Arthur," Merlin said, his throat feeling tight at the unexpected, albeit roundabout, compliment. "Does this mean you'll let me hug you now?"

"What is it with you and hugging?!" Arthur asked, his face wrinkling at the prospect, even as Merlin's eyes sparkled with humor and the ladies both laughed.

"My mother always told me that a good hug could solve anything," Merlin said loftily.

"Yet you're still an idiot," Arthur replied, though Merlin knew there was no malice in the insult. "I suppose I'll have to devise some sort of official position for you. I can't very well call you the Court Idiot. Somehow I don't think that's what your _future_ _father_-_in_-_law_ had in mind, _Mer_lin."

At the reminder, Merlin fell back into the chair, gripping the arms of it to steady himself.

"You could name him your advisor," Guinevere offered. "As he said, he's been an advisor of sorts to you for many years now."

"The council will just argue that I have many advisors, namely, _them_."

"Then you should really put them in their place," Mithian said impishly.

"How do you suggest I do that?"

"Make Merlin outrank them. Name him your _First _Advisor," Mithian replied, looking at Merlin with pride.

"I like it," Gwen agreed, though Arthur looked dubious.

"I'm confused," Merlin began, looking at Mithian. "Why would your father choose me? I'm hardly the ideal husband for a princess..."

"That's not true!" Gwen protested, and Arthur stopped nodding his agreement with Merlin when he caught his wife's stern look.

"I, for one, saw what my father sees in you when I was here _three years ago_, and I see it even more _clearly _now. I believe Guinevere is right, this is _long _overdue," Mithian said, looking pointedly at her newly betrothed. Merlin scoffed under his breath and looked down at his hands; he knew full well what Mithian was saying. But he couldn't very well tell Arthur that, considering Camelot's current stance on magic.

"I hope you're not disappointed?" Merlin asked finally, meeting the princess' gaze nervously. Mithian smiled.

"When Arthur refused my hand, risking his kingship and his kingdom on the grounds that he loved another, a blacksmith's daughter, no less," Mithian said, smiling warmly at Guinevere. "I told him that I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved. So no, Merlin, I'm not disappointed. Quite relieved, actually," Mithian laughed. "For a moment I feared that my father had an old relic from Arthur's council picked out for me."

"Well, I suppose I am a _slight _bit better than an _old relic_," Merlin chuckled, leaning towards Mithian and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Though that _is _debatable. I mean, Lord Olwin has a _very _nice keep in the north."

"I believe that's you being modest again," Mithian replied coyly, leaning closer to Merlin as she too lowered her voice. "I've no desire for a keep in the north, nor a husband who is older than my _father_."

"You know I'm never modest, I'm just entirely unusual," Merlin countered with a grin, recalling their first conversation.

"It's like we've disappeared, Guinevere," Arthur said dryly, though he smiled incredulously. The king had _never _seen Merlin try to flirt with _anyone_. Even when that barmaid had boldly called Merlin a '_handsome fellow'_ all those years ago, the most the manservant had managed was a bashful thank you. And now Merlin was actually trying to be _charming_. Arthur distantly wondered if someone had put something in the wine this morning.

"You actually _like _him," Arthur said abruptly, coming to a sudden, belated realization. "That's why you were _tickling _him the other day!"

"Keenly observed, Arthur," Guinevere teased cheekily.

"Is that so surprising?" Mithian asked, chuckling as Arthur nodded, only to grimace when the queen elbowed him in the ribs again.

"I mean, no, it's not surprising at all," Arthur corrected. "What?!" the king exclaimed when Merlin just rolled his eyes and smiled at Mithian.

Guinevere laughed delightedly. She had been sure that she'd seen some fondness between Merlin and Mithian, the tickling incident aside, but she hadn't _dared _to hope that they would get along so well. Many of the serving girls in the castle had swooned over Merlin's clumsy, innate-yet-clueless charm over the years. He had certainly given smiles and the odd compliment here or there to the various maidservants over his years in Arthur's service, but Gwen had never seen Merlin _quite _so responsive to a woman. The sparkle in both Merlin and Mithian's eyes spoke of a _definite_ regard between the two.

"Oh, Arthur! We've an announcement to make, a feast to plan, quarters to prepare! There's so much to do and we've only a month! We've got to get started," Gwen said in a rush.

"Wait, wait, wait," Arthur said. "An announcement? A feast? Quarters? What are you talking about?"

"We've got to announce Merlin and Princess Mithian's betrothal," Gwen began, ticking things off on her fingers. "We can't announce something like that and not have a feast to celebrate. Merlin! You'll get to enjoy the feast! And we've got to prepare new quarters for Merlin!"

"What's the matter with the ones he's got?" Arthur asked. Gwen rolled her eyes.

"Arthur, we can't have your First Advisor-"

"Hang on! When did we actually decide that Merlin was going to be my _First Advisor?_" Arthur asked, liking the idea, but feeling he had to protest all the same. He was the king after all, and that meant he was supposed to be in charge.

"What else would he be then?" Gwen asked.

"Court Idiot hasn't been entirely ruled out," Arthur grumbled, looking at Merlin's knowing smile.

"You just don't want to admit that you like their idea."

"Of course not!" Arthur denied, though he backtracked at Guinevere's pointedly raised eyebrow.

"Of _course _I _want _to admit it's a great idea, but I have to consider all the possibilities."

"Which are?" Gwen asked, smiling at her husband's blank look.

"Well, I've not thought of anything else just yet, so I suppose that First Advisor is as good as any."

"As I was saying," Guinevere resumed. "We can't have your _First Advisor _tucked away in the physician's quarters. If Merlin is going to be taken seriously as your _First Advisor_, we have to show that _we _believe him to be worthy of the position. And besides, Merlin can't keep a wife, a _princess_, no less, in that tiny room!"

Merlin felt his face flush a brilliant red at the thought of having a wife, and all that it entailed. Arthur's face was just as red. Gwen shook her head fondly at her husband, though politely ignored her best friend's embarrassment. Mithian chuckled at the antics of the unlikely trio of friends, though her cheeks were decidedly rosy as well.

"Honestly, Arthur, they're going to be married! What did you think they were going to do?"

"I'm trying _not _to think of what they're going to do, Guinevere," Arthur groaned, covering his face in his hands.

"Alright, I think this lot needs clearing up!" Merlin said, leaping out of the chair and grabbing plates and cutlery to hide his burning face.

"I'll help!" Mithian said, standing to assist Merlin.

"No, no, that's alright, please don't worry about it. Mithian, you're not supposed to be doing that," Merlin entreated as Mithian stacked a few bowls and plates.

"As of twenty minutes ago, neither are _you_," Mithian said with a laugh. Merlin stopped abruptly, putting his burden back down on the table as his mouth dropped open.

"That is true," Merlin said finally, turning to Arthur with a wicked grin. "I hope you like brass jokes, Arthur, because my replacement has a whole lot of them."

Arthur grimaced at the thought and groaned. Then Merlin turned to Mithian.

"We've got a month. I believe we have some courting to do," he said, offering his arm and leading his princess from the dining hall.

* * *

Merlin wasted no time directing Mithian to Gaius' chambers. This was something that Merlin wanted to tell his foster father himself. No doubt that the rumor mill would run rampant with the news of Merlin and Mithian's betrothal as soon as a servant caught wind of it.

George would likely be told first, since he was next in line within the servant's hierarchy when it came to serving the king in Merlin's stead. Then of course, the castle steward would have to be told of the change in staff. While George would never say anything for propriety's sake, the steward was sure to tell anyone who so much as walked by.

"What do you say we have a bit of fun?" Merlin asked mischievously. Mithian instantly smiled back.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Just follow along," Merlin replied, putting on his most serious face and bursting through the door to the physician's chambers.

"Gaius!"

"What on earth are you on about, Merlin?!" Gaius groused, smiling as soon as he saw Mithian on Merlin's arm. "Princess Mithian," he greeted her, confused by the closeness between his ward and the princess.

"I need to send for my mother, urgently," Merlin answered, putting on his best worried expression, complete with a lower lip caught in his teeth.

"Whatever is the matter, Merlin?" Gaius asked, alarmed.

"Something has happened, we need her to come to Camelot," Merlin entreated.

"What is it?" Gaius asked, growing suspicious at Mithian's lack of concern. In fact, Gaius would have to say she looked more amused than anything.

"We're getting married," Merlin blurted out, gesturing between himself and Mithian.

"Very funny, Merlin, what is _actually _going on?" Gaius asked.

"I am perfectly serious."

"Merlin, don't be ridiculous."

"He doesn't even believe me, this doesn't bode well for us, Mithian," Merlin joked.

"What is going on he-"

"Gaius," Mithian interrupted. "Merlin is telling the truth. My father has offered my hand to Merlin and he's being promoted to the king's First Advisor."

Gaius' infamous eyebrow rose higher than Merlin had ever seen it. The physician shook his head and looked to his ward in amazement.

"Will wonders never cease..." Gaius immediately shepherded the new couple to the pair of chairs by the fire that Merlin and Mithian had been making use of for the last few evenings. "Tell me what transpired this morning, and don't leave anything out," the physician said, eyeing Merlin with a raised eyebrow. Within a few minutes, they succeeded in satisfying Gaius' curiosity sufficiently.

"You should have seen him, Gaius. When my father named Merlin as his choice for my husband, Merlin nearly crumpled to the ground on the spot!"

"As it was, I still had to lean against the wall for support and even then, my legs felt boneless and I slid down the wall to the floor. I was stunned into a stupor," Merlin agreed.

"Arthur, though was completely gobsmacked! He could hardly speak until my father left the room," Mithian added. Gaius shook his head and chuckled. He would've dearly loved to have witnessed the spectacle that had transpired that morning.

"First Advisor and betrothed as well. Considering your destiny and friendship with Arthur, I'm not entirely surprised that you have been given this honor. But I admit, I hadn't thought that I would see you assume this role in my lifetime. Especially with the way things are right now. Do you suppose this was Fate's design all along? Or do you think that Arthur wasn't moving fast enough for Fate's liking?" Gaius chuckled.

Merlin shook his head, still unable to comprehend the long-term ramifications of the events of that morning.

"All this talk of fate and destiny leaves my head spinning," Mithian mused.

"Believe me, I know the feeling," Merlin chuckled. "Imagine hearing from an enormous dragon that you're destined to train up a prat of a prince and keep him from being killed prematurely by his own arrogant idiocy!"

"I think I'd have fainted dead away," Mithian laughed.

"No, I think you'd have given that dragon a piece of your mind before telling him to lay off your back," Merlin replied.

"You flatter me, Merlin."

A sharp knock on the door pulled the trio from their conversation.

"Enter!" Gaius called, and a castle guard stuck his head in the door.

"King Arthur and Queen Guinevere request that the three of you join them in the council chambers."

"We shall be there," Gaius assured the man, who hurried off, no doubt to summon someone else.

* * *

Upon entering the council chamber, Merlin saw that Arthur, Gwen and Rodor were waiting at the head of the room. There was already a large crowd of red-cloaked knights, including Leon, Elyan, Percival and Gwaine, positioned nearest to Arthur. Several lords and their ladies murmured amongst themselves across from the knights. Merlin could already see the speculation in their eyes. Arthur rarely called impromptu gatherings of the court, and when he did, it was usually something significant.

Merlin looked to Mithian as they made it to the front of the assembled nobles. Mithian offered him a slight nod and an encouraging smile, knowing that after this meeting, Merlin's life would never be the same again. The warlock returned the nod and took up his position close to Arthur as Mithian moved to stand beside her father.

Arthur strode forward then, gaining everyone's attention. The murmurs and rumblings of the gathered court ceased immediately.

"After much thought and careful consideration, I have decided that one of my household was overdue for a change of position."

Merlin tried valiantly to avoid rolling his eyes; instead he bit his lip and looked studiously at his boots, not wanting to give anything away. Though it was difficult not to laugh at the enormous understatement that '_much thought and careful consideration'_ was in regards to the way Rodor surprised them all. It was rather akin to comparing Kilgharrah to a common lizard, Merlin mused. The warlock immediately straightened, however, when whispers suddenly traveled around the room like a summer breeze. Arthur held his hands up and silence fell once more.

"This person has been a great friend and help to the crown. He has supported me and Queen Guinevere through peace and hardship, pushing and pulling me along when I needed it most. I would not be here today as your King without this man. So it is with great pleasure that I, Arthur Pendragon, name Merlin of Ealdor as my First Advisor."

Merlin raised his head and stepped forward at Arthur's words, meeting many stunned faces as his eyes scanned the room. Gwen, Rodor, and Mithian were applauding politely, their smiles wide and genuine. Gwaine, however, couldn't hold back. He began applauding and whistling enthusiastically, Leon, Percival and Elyan joining in soon after. With Guinevere, Rodor, Mithian and all four of Arthur's closest knights so obviously in support of the move, the rest of the court joined in, though none as enthusiastically as Gwaine.

After a few moments, Arthur raised his hands to calm the gathered nobles. "In light of this new development, King Rodor of Nemeth has also made an offer of Mithian's hand in marriage. King Rodor and I both approve of the match, and so it is that I also announce the betrothal of Princess Mithian and Merlin of Ealdor, First Advisor of Camelot."

Rodor, Arthur and Guinevere were the first to start the applause as Merlin and Mithian moved to the center of the room. Merlin caught Mithian's offered hand and supported her as she curtsied to him and then Merlin bowed low and pressed a kiss to her hand.

As soon as his lips were pressed to her hand, Gwaine seemed to realize that it wasn't an elaborate joke being played on the Court of Camelot. With an indecorous shout of glee and a piercing whistle, Gwaine threw propriety aside and ran to meet the newly betrothed couple, his fellow knights close on his heels. Surrounding the two of them, the knights all took turns congratulating the happy pair. Unfortunately, they all felt that Merlin could only be properly congratulated with a manly punch in the shoulder and a hearty slap to the back. By the time Merlin and Mithian broke free from their enthusiastic friends, Merlin was sure he'd have massive bruises on both arms.

"How is this _boy _an eligible match for a princess?"

The pleasant revelry surrounding Merlin and Mithian was broken as two lords of the court voiced their disapproval of the match.

"He's not even a courtier, let alone a royal!"

"He's every bit a courtier," Arthur said, his voice steely. "I made him a member of the court when I named him First Advisor."

"But surely Princess Mithian could do better than a bastard peasant-"

"If I _ever _hear you address my daughter's intended in such a manner again, I will personally have you put in the stocks, rank be damned," Rodor said vehemently. Merlin was stunned. He'd heard that word his entire life; while his friends within Camelot were polite enough to disregard Merlin's lack of a father, most were not. The fact that Rodor had come to his defense made Merlin inexplicably grateful and perhaps just a bit embarrassed. Distantly the warlock wondered if that was what having a father, rather than a guardian, felt like.

"And I'll have you removed from my court," Arthur promised, immediately deflating the inevitable argument on jurisdiction, rank and propriety that was sure to have lasted the rest of the morning.

"We'd like to see you all at a grand feast tonight, held in Merlin and Mithian's honor," Gwen announced to more whispered murmurings.

"Until then," Arthur said, effectively dismissing the court.

* * *

The feast _was _grand as Gwen had promised. Merlin was excited because it was the first feast that he'd really be able to take part of and enjoy, rather than standing behind Arthur waiting to fill the king's goblet. He had felt strange at first, taking a seat at the head table. Merlin couldn't help but feel as though someone was going to come along and tell him that while it had all been a great laugh, what the hell did he think he was doing sitting at the king's table?

Then Mithian had sat beside him and smiled, instantly settling the unsteady feeling in Merlin's gut. As soon as Arthur took his seat, various servants began bringing platters of food and pitchers of wine. Some of them looked at Merlin critically, though many were genuinely happy for him. While Merlin was friendly with everyone, there were a few servants who thought his impertinence and candor with the nobles was entirely inappropriate and that Merlin was reaching above his station. It was those few servants who Merlin thought would be the most difficult to deal with in the coming weeks.

Merlin was pulled from his musings when a mug was put down on the table in front of him. Looking up into Gwaine's amused eyes, Merlin began to feel a little apprehensive at the mischievous glint he saw there.

"Merlin, now that you're sitting at this table, it's time you enjoyed a real drink," the knight said, gesturing to the cup. "This is fine, aged mead, much more palatable than that bitter wine."

Mithian chuckled, knowing just what the knight was hoping for. Merlin had told her the previous night that Gwaine had made it his personal duty to thoroughly inebriate Merlin at least once in the warlock's lifetime.

"Perhaps just the one," Merlin conceded, much to Gwaine's delight.

Within twenty minutes, the sweet taste of the mead had lured Merlin into finishing the whole mug. Gwaine was counting on that sweet flavor to mask the potency of the drink. As soon as Merlin's attention was focused on Mithian, Leon switched the warlock's empty mug for a full one. Sure enough, Merlin's head was clouded sufficiently that he didn't notice, and had soon finished the second as well. Percival and Elyan also took a turn making the mug switch while Arthur held the inebriated man's attention and before they all knew it, Merlin was drunker than any of them had ever seen him.

What Mithian realized soon after, though, was that Merlin had _very _good reason for avoiding drunkenness. While Arthur and his knights were laughing at their great triumph, Mithian's eyes widened and she grew more alarmed as Merlin's tongue became looser and looser.

"Arthur! You're a cabbage head! You're lucky Gwen decided to marry you... Wait... maybe _I'm_ lucky you married Gwen? Cause now I get to marry Mithian! Mithian! We're getting maaarrrrried! I feel a little strange... Gwaine?! What did you give me? Arthur, how many times do I have to tell you that you're a dollop head? Gwen, why are there two of you? Leon! You giggle like a girl! But Gwaine, the serving girls like your hair. Elyan! Elyan, you should stop spinning like that... Mithian! You're so beaaauuutiful... "

Merlin turned to Mithian sitting on his right and grinned stupidly at her. She smiled and wondered if she could get Merlin out of the hall on her own before he said anything truly damning. A second later, Mithian almost gasped aloud when Merlin's eyes seemed to flicker with barely concealed gold. Merlin's spoon jittered slightly on the table, though no one had touched it. Then Merlin began laughing at nothing and his eyes flickered again. The candles on the table sputtered momentarily, but didn't go out.

"I'm not trying to, honest," Merlin told her imploringly. "I can't help it."

"You can't help anything, Merlin," Arthur laughed, completely oblivious to what Merlin was actually referring to.

"Merlin, what do you say we get you to bed, hmm?" Mithian asked, her alarm growing as Merlin's eyes flickered again and a platter across the room crashed to the floor.

"Bed! That sounds good. I have a bed in Gaius' chambers, did you know? Which way is that?"

Mithian grasped Merlin by the arm and tugged, grateful when he got to his feet largely on his own.

"If you'll excuse us, Arthur, Guinevere," Mithian said, returning the nod from the king and queen and making a hasty exit.

"I don't envy _him _in the morning," Arthur chuckled. Gwen raised her eyebrow in the knights' direction, who at least had the decency to stop chortling long enough to look apologetic before the next wave of laughter broke their composure.

"Honestly, you'd think they were a bunch of boys, rather than grown men," Gwen said, rolling her eyes.

"We're brothers, and brothers are meant to tease," Arthur said as though it was the secret to understanding men. Gwen just shook her head in fond exasperation. They were her brothers, too, after all.

* * *

"When did this staircase get here? I don't remember this one," Merlin said as he and Mithian came to the last set of stairs before the physician's chambers.

"I'd imagine they got there when the castle was built," Mithian answered sensibly.

"You're probably right. Because moving staircases, that would be like magic. But it can't be magic, magic isn't allowed in Camelot. Magic, magic, magic. See? I said it three times and it didn't hurt anyone. Why doesn't anyone like magic? Magic, I have MAGIC!"

Mithian froze, grateful that the stairs and hallway were deserted this time of night.

"That's something you should keep _quiet_, Merlin," Mithian entreated.

"That's true. But no one wou' believe me anyway. I once told the whoooole council, Uther and Arthur included, but no one believed me! Arthur said I was in love with Gwen an' that's why I did it. Why di' he think I loved Gwen? I've never liked her like that, she's always b'n like a sister to me. Though she _did _kiss me once, but I had just died, so I s'ppose tha's un'ers'andable, but still she KISSED me and she's like my sis'er, so it was strange, because she's like my sis'er and it was strange," Merlin rambled. Mithian pushed down the irrational spark of jealousy that flared when Merlin said Guinevere had kissed him, especially since Merlin had said it was strange. Twice, even. She'd have to ask him about the dying part when he was more lucid though.

Finally, the physician's door came into view. Merlin reached out a hand to open the door and it swung wide before he could touch it.

"Sorry. I'm no' tryin' to," Merlin said again, before he began to giggle. "Gaius is always tellin' me no' to use magic for li'le tricks but I just can't stop!"

At the mention of his name, Gaius roused from his bed, where he had retired to once the feast had begun getting rowdy.

"Merlin?" Gaius asked, trying to peer through the dark.

"It's the both of us," Mithian answered. "Have you a light nearby?" she asked, not wanting to navigate the cluttered and mostly unfamiliar room in the dark. Suddenly, every candle and sconce flared to life and Gaius squinted at the sudden light. Mithian hurriedly shut the door behind them.

"Sorry, I didn' mean to, bu' you asked for a ligh' and it just happened," Merlin apologized.

"What's going on?"

"The knights thought it would be quite the prank to finally get Merlin completely drunk. They kept switching his glass when he was distracted."

"Oh dear," Gaius murmured, standing to help Mithian usher Merlin into his tiny room.

"I can' help it Gaius," Merlin murmured. "It just happens."

"We're lucky he didn't give someone an unnatural hair color or something else undeniably magical," Gaius chuckled, laying Merlin on his bed as the warlock began laughing anew. Mithian gasped and Gaius instantly knew that it had been the wrong thing to say in front of a powerful warlock whose magic was open to suggestion. Looking at the hair hanging down beside his face, Gaius cringed at its bright, vibrant blue color.

Mithian clapped a hand over her mouth, struggling to contain the laughter that so desperately wanted to be released.

"You can laugh. It would seem that we're to be locked in until he can reverse this or I can find the remedy myself."

Mithian nodded and made short work of Merlin's boots; then she and Gaius tucked the giggling warlock under a blanket. They were both stunned when they made to leave the small room and found that Gaius had misspoken once again; as Merlin's door didn't have a lock, the latch pull was simply gone, vanished by Merlin's uncontrolled magic. The door was firmly secured; no amount of prying succeeded in cracking it open.

"Merlin! Let us out!" Gaius cried, turning back to his ward. Unfortunately, the warlock had finally passed out.

"I suppose we'd better get comfortable," Mithian said, looking doubtfully around the sparsely furnished room.

"Help me move him, you can take the bed," Gaius suggested.

"No, that isn't necessary," Mithian protested. Gaius smiled and shook his head.

"Trust me, he's out cold and won't feel a thing," Gaius assured her, though he paused as though considering.

"Well, not till morning, at least."

* * *

Merlin woke with a groan, clutching his head and grimacing as his stomach protested the movement. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Merlin opened his eyes to discover that he was asleep on a pile of his dirty clothes and the burlap sacks that Gaius stored in Merlin's room.

Sitting up gingerly, Merlin saw Gaius' back as the physician slept in Merlin's chair, his head resting on the small work table. Another sweep of his room revealed Mithian laying on his bed, her hands tucked under her cheek as she slept.

"Gaius?" Merlin croaked, his mouth dry and his throat parched. The physician's head jerked up suddenly, revealing what Merlin hadn't been able to see from where he sat on the floor.

Gaius' hair was blue. Bright, royal blue. Merlin instantly clapped a hand over his mouth, unknowingly mirroring Mithian's reaction to the physician's conundrum.

"What happened to your hair?!" Merlin asked, his voice dry and raspy.

"Funny you should ask that," Gaius said dryly, raising his eyebrow indignantly.

"What? What did I do?" Merlin asked, realizing that the night before was utterly blank in his memory.

"You are _never_ to drink mead again, Merlin," Gaius said sternly. Merlin groaned in realization, clutching his head as it pounded.

"I did that?" he asked, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his aching forehead upon them. Gaius took pity on his ward, considering Merlin _had _been at the mercy of the knights.

"Gaius? Merlin?" Mithian asked, sitting up groggily.

"Good morning, Mithian," Merlin greeted her with a sheepish expression.

"I _would _appreciate _not _having blue hair," Gaius said pointedly.

"Ahh. Yes. How do I do that?"

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed, much to Mithian's amusement.

"Right, er..." Merlin held a hand in Gaius' direction and said, "_Edhwierft hwítest feaxnesse."_

"Thank you," the physician sighed in utter relief when he saw his hair fading back to its normal white color.

The door unfortunately, was a bit more difficult, especially with Merlin's pounding head. Thankfully, after a few tense minutes, the warlock finally prevailed. Yanking the door open, Gaius and Merlin practically ran out of the room, only to stop short as the door to Gaius' chamber opened and Guinevere rushed into the room.

"Merlin!" Gwen called worriedly, causing the warlock to grip his head and moan.

"Have you seen Mithian this morning?" Gwen entreated breathlessly. "We were supposed to breakfast together, but her bed hasn't been slept in and the last time I saw her was at the feast last night."

"I'm here," Mithian said, coming down from Merlin's room. Gwen's eyes widened in shock, looking from Gaius, to Merlin, to Mithian, who was obviously still in her gown from the feast.

"I'm assuming there is an explanation for this?" the queen asked, a smile quirking her lips.

"Mithian was helping me get Merlin in bed last night after the knights saw fit to inebriate him past the point of rational thought. Whilst we were getting him into his bed, I'm afraid the latch got jammed and we were all three trapped in his room until just moments ago."

Guinevere looked between the three of them; Gaius with a hand massaging his lower back, Mithian rubbing her neck and Merlin still clutching his head.

"That must've been cozy," Gwen teased, then the queen began to chuckle.

"Oh, I _quite _enjoy sleeping in a pile of dirty clothes and musty burlap sacks and waking up with a pounding head," Merlin groused sarcastically.

"I must admit, I was the fortunate one to claim the bed, though I'm not sure how Merlin finds that very comfortable," Mithian chuckled, continuing to rub at her neck.

"It's better than the dirt floor I grew up with," Merlin replied.

"Well then, we've got to be sure you have new quarters as soon as possible," Gwen chuckled, ushering Mithian to the door and chuckling at the predicaments in which Merlin always seemed to find himself.

As soon as the ladies had gone, Gaius went to his stores and found Merlin a headache remedy which the warlock took without protest.

"Mithian told me last night that you were rather loose-lipped and making things move at the banquet without even trying. Not to mention the hijinks you put us through after you arrived here! Yet again I'm amazed you still have a head on your shoulders, Merlin," Gaius mused. Merlin could only nod in agreement, grateful that Mithian had the foresight to get him out of the banquet hall before something truly, undeniably magical could be attributed to him.

Though it was, without a doubt, the worst hangover Merlin had ever had and the headache remedy tasted of the bog, Merlin couldn't help but think that the sight of Gaius with bright blue hair almost made it worth it.

* * *

Merlin was becoming rather sore. Since the feast, every time the knights saw the warlock, they gave him a congratulatory punch to the shoulder or a slap on the back. Merlin now winced whenever he saw Percival headed his way. Leon and Elyan were tolerable, but Gwaine was the worst. The warlock was tempted to turn the knight into a toad, illegality of magic be damned.

Merlin had thought that the numerous prods that pushed him into Mithian while they shared a horse was bad. But every time Gwaine saw Merlin now, the knight grinned mischievously and bowed low, greeting the newly appointed advisor with an over-the-top, _Your Excellency. _Then Gwaine would laugh, punch Merlin in the shoulder and try to convince him to join the knight in the tavern to finish getting him soused. Merlin cringed in mortification every time, especially when there were servants within earshot.

A week after Merlin's promotion, Gwen delighted in moving the First Advisor into his new quarters. While significantly smaller than the royal bedchambers, they still seemed overly large and spacious to the warlock.

"Shall we dine in here tonight?" Mithian asked as Merlin eyed everything in wonder.

"In here?" Merlin asked, taken aback at the realization that these rooms were truly his, and that he was entitled to dinner from the kitchens now. "Sounds perfect," Merlin answered.

"I'll just go let my father know not to expect me then," Mithian answered, her own realization dawning that she and Merlin were now truly courting and that eventually, Merlin's new chambers would be _their _new chambers.

"I'll see you then," Merlin said, unsure of what else to say in his rather limited knowledge of courting etiquette. Mithian smiled knowingly at Merlin's awkwardness and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"That's how I prefer to say, _until then,_" Mithian whispered, laughing a tinkling laugh when Merlin nodded his agreement.

"Well?" Mithian asked impishly.

"Oh!" Merlin leaned in to kiss Mithian's cheek, but was surprised when she turned to catch his lips with hers. For a moment, his mind went blank, and his magic surged elatedly through his chest, adding to the warm, heady feeling that Mithian's kiss had inspired in him. Her lips reached for his again and again, and he gladly met them, cradling her face gently in his hands.

"That is definitely how I prefer to say, _until then_," Merlin murmured when they finally broke apart. Mithian laughed delightedly, smiling as she moved to the door, only to look back to find that Merlin hadn't moved an inch, save for the smile upon his lips.

* * *

When a knock sounded an hour later, Merlin rushed to answer his door, only to find that Mithian was accompanied not only by Arthur and Gwen, but Rodor as well.

"When Mithian said you were dining in your chambers tonight, we thought we'd all come along," King Rodor explained. Merlin nodded, wondering if Rodor somehow knew that the warlock had kissed Mithian only an hour earlier and was now trying to chaperone them.

As it turned out, dinner was rather pleasant. Rodor's presence kept Arthur from making too many jokes about Merlin and Mithian, and Gwen's presence kept everyone grounded and conversation moving when it lulled. Merlin had felt more than a little strange allowing another servant to serve him dinner, when just two weeks previously, they had been elbow deep in the laundry together. More than once, Merlin had to stop himself from getting up to help serve the next course or fill someone's goblet, but Mithian would put a gentle hand on his arm and soothe his discomfort at the unfamiliar situation.

"That went rather well," Mithian said softly later that evening as Merlin escorted her back to her chambers.

"I suppose it did, I only offered to fill your father's goblet once," Merlin joked.

"You know it doesn't matter to him that you were a servant. If it did, he wouldn't have offered you my hand," Mithian reasoned.

"All the same, I think it'll take me awhile to get used to things."

"These are my chambers," Mithian said softly as her door came into view.

"Where we say, _until then_," Merlin said cheekily.

Mithian said nothing, but looked expectantly at her betrothed. Merlin grew serious, taking Mithian's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Sleep well, my princess," he murmured, before placing a gentle kiss upon her lips.

"Sleep well, my warlock," Mithian whispered, leaving Merlin with another kiss and a quiet snick of her door latching shut. Merlin walked back to his rooms in a daze, wondering if he would be allowed to stay this happy forever.

After all the activity of the day, Merlin's chambers seemed too empty and too quiet when he finally climbed into his new bed. Merlin felt a little lost without the sound of Gaius' snores just beyond his door, but before long, he fell asleep with Mithian's voice in his mind, calling him _her _warlock.

* * *

As Merlin was settling into his new chambers the next day, a soft knock interrupted his organizing. He was surprised however, to see the royal tailor flanked by Arthur, Gwen and Mithian.

"Come in," he invited them, opening the door wide.

"Angus is come to measure you," Gwen explained as they entered and got set up. Merlin looked to the two ladies questioningly, wondering why he needed to be measured, though their expressions revealed nothing. Merlin just shrugged and let the tailor get to work.

"What are you here for?" Merlin asked Arthur as the king sat at Merlin's table and put his feet up.

"Such a nice way to greet your _king_, Merlin. I'm here to spend time with Guinevere," Arthur said loftily.

"Don't let him fool you, George is scrubbing our floor and Arthur's running away from him."

"I am not!"

"Why else would you come to watch _Merlin _get _measured_?" Gwen asked, her smile fond but knowing.

"Someone has to make sure he doesn't look like a fool."

"Isn't that what _we're _here for?" Mithian teased. Arthur didn't respond.

"What sort of clothes did you have in mind?" Merlin asked Mithian.

"It's up to you, they'll be your clothes," she chuckled.

"It's your wedding too, though."

"Merlin, this isn't for the wedding; it's for your new wardrobe," Gwen explained.

"What's wrong with the clothes I've got? They're perfectly fine, barely any wear to them! New clothes would just be a waste," Merlin protested.

"Merlin, if you consider that shirt barely worn, I'd hate to see what you think is ready for the rag bin," Arthur argued. "You're my First Advisor now, you can't go around looking like a rumpled peasant."

"But I am a rumpled peasant, so what's the harm of looking like it?"

"I'll burn every last bit of those rags if you don't wear your new clothes," Arthur threatened.

"You wouldn't," Merlin protested.

"Try me," Arthur taunted.

"I will, then," Merlin vowed.

"I'll make a big spectacle of it in the courtyard."

Merlin would come to regret scoffing at the king in disbelief. Arthur, as it turned out, hadn't been joking. Merlin and Mithian returned from a ride in the countryside the next morning to see Arthur in the courtyard, happily tossing huge lumps of brown cloth into a conflagration on the cobblestones.

"Is that what I think it is?" Merlin asked incredulously as Arthur reached for a small red and blue pile. Merlin jumped off his horse and just managed to save his neckerchiefs from the flames.

"My mother made these!"

"They'll clash with your new clothes," Arthur insisted, though he didn't protest when Merlin gathered up every last scarf. Hunith _had _made them, after all.

* * *

"Are you ready for your first council meeting?" Arthur asked as he and Merlin moved towards the council chambers.

"It's not exactly the first time I've been in a council meeting, you know."

"You're not pouring wine, this time," Arthur countered.

"No, but I'll still be trying to stay awake," Merlin joked as he and Arthur entered the chambers and moved to their places at the table. Several council members were already there, milling around the room and murmuring to one another.

Lords Olwin and Vidor were standing in a cluster of _relics_, as Mithian would say. Merlin could feel their disapproving eyes on him and he looked in their direction with a raised eyebrow. Gaius was the last to arrive, having finished his rounds later than usual.

"Good, let's get started," Arthur said, drawing everyone to the table.

Nearly an hour later, they had discussed taxes, a minor illness in the lower town, and the constant struggle against smugglers. Merlin had followed along readily, though he hadn't said much. It was the same things the council had been arguing over for the last year, and Merlin felt there was little that he could add that hadn't been said already.

"Are there any last orders of business?" Arthur asked.

"I have," Lord Vidor spoke up.

"What would you have us discuss?" Arthur asked.

"My lands are having some issues with thieves and liars. Chickens and eggs are being stolen and my grain stores were looted last week."

"Are you sure the people in your lands have sufficient provisions?" Arthur asked, remembering his experience with Anhora.

"The harvest _may _have been affected by blight, Sire," Vidor admitted.

"Did you then lessen their required tribute?" Arthur asked, recalling the way Kanen had terrorized Ealdor, attempting to plunder every last sack of grain the villagers had harvested.

"I did as I saw fit," Vidor said, which everyone understood was a round about way of saying no. "My concern is what should be done with the thieves."

"Surely mercy should be shown for those desperate to feed their families, their children," Merlin interjected, knowing precisely what the gnawing pain of an empty stomach felt like and how it could affect otherwise good people.

"I cannot encourage looting," Vidor argued. "I haven't caught anyone in the act, but I would like to enact a Trial by Ordeals to find the culprit."

"Trial by Ordeals?!" Merlin asked, appalled at the thought.

"Yes. You do know what the Trial by Ordeals entails, don't you boy?" Vidor drawled. Then Merlin could see exactly why this entire topic had been introduced. Lord Vidor was trying to draw him in and make him look the fool. Merlin's eyes hardened and he smiled humorlessly at the noble.

"Yes. The Trial of Ordeals was introduced at least fifty years ago, possibly even further back. Those accused are given a red-hot coal, stone or rod and asked to hold onto it for a certain time. Or the accused is blindfolded and told to walk barefoot over a bed of coals. Healing of the wounds indicates innocence. Festering shows their guilt. How this could possibly be seen as reliable, I've no idea. Are we to assume that any person with a festering wound is guilty of some offense and therefore in need of punishment? Or if someone who is witnessed committing a crime heals, are we then to let them go, regardless of their true character?"

"What would you know of healing? Or law and character for that matter?" Vidor sneered.

"Gaius hasn't had me grinding herbs and helping him for nothing. Neither have I been standing at the back of this room for the better part of the last decade twiddling my thumbs, Lord Vidor," he said with no small amount of impertinence.

Arthur had to cover his mouth to hide his grin when Vidor blustered.

"My Lord, I demand you put him in the stocks for his impudence!"

"Lord Vidor, I've never put a man in the stocks for telling the truth, and I'm not going to start now. If you have a problem with my First Advisor, then I suggest you take it up with me privately. Using these meetings to try and make Merlin look like a fool only makes _you_ look like one," Arthur said, gladly refusing as he'd never liked Lord Vidor. Arthur's stern expression cowed everyone at the table save for a beaming Court Physician and one impertinent advisor.

"What am I to do about the thieves then? Do I have your sanction for a trial by ordeals?" Lord Vidor asked grumpily.

"I will not allow you to enact such an archaic practice," Arthur said firmly. "You'll have to post a guard to find your thieves like anyone else would."

"What then should be done with them? Shall they be hung for their crime?" Vidor suggested cruelly.

"If I could make a suggestion?" Merlin cut in. Vidor glared at him, but backed off when Arthur cleared his throat.

"What do you have in mind, Merlin?" the king asked.

"Well, as Vidor has said, the crops in his lands were affected by blight. These men are likely stealing food because they were forced to give more than they could afford in tribute."

"How dare you-" Vidor growled, only to be cut off by Arthur.

"Hold your tongue, Vidor, if you wish to keep your seat here on the council. Merlin? Please continue."

"I suggest you post the guard, as the king suggested, but do so secretly. Once the culprit or culprits have been caught, rather than hang them, put them to work on your lands for a time and pay them with the foodstores collected from the tribute. The thievery is stopped, they and their families are fed, and the debt for their crime is paid."

"This is an outrage!" Vidor exclaimed. "I cannot employ thieves and looters!"

"You will do precisely that, Lord Vidor," Arthur said. "Lest you become known as much a thief as these hungry men struggling to feed their families. No, you are worse, for you knew they did not have it to give in the first place. If you cannot abide by this solution, the tribute paid to you will be surrendered to the Crown of Camelot to be redistributed appropriately to the people."

"You are defiling the kingdom with your extravagant mercies," Vidor protested. "You've tainted this council with this farcical advisor."

"Over the years that he has served me, Lord Vidor, Merlin has helped me see that the greatness of a kingdom should be measured by the hard work and resulting happiness of _all _its subjects and not by the extravagance of the high-born. Merlin's wisdom has helped make Camelot a great kingdom. It is a grave insult to both his and my honor to say that Merlin's position in the court taints it in any way. I take exception to such accusations, Lord Vidor, and I will warn you one last time, not to make such statements again. This council is dismissed."

"That went well," Merlin said sardonically as the last of the councilors filed out. Arthur laughed humorlessly.

"It did, actually," Arthur agreed, utterly serious. "I've been wanting to say something like that to Lord Vidor for some time now, but he's such a bootlicker that I lacked the opportunity. I should reward you for so thoroughly putting him in his place; it seems you were born for this."

"Perhaps I was," Merlin said, musing inwardly at how close to the mark Arthur truly was.

"You handled him like you had been trained as long as I have been," the king admitted, though Merlin could see the open sentimentality of the conversation was making the king uncomfortable.

"I've had plenty of experience," Merlin answered cheekily, relieving Arthur from his awkwardness. The king's mouth dropped open in amused shock, knowing exactly what Merlin was doing.

"Experience?! Are you saying that I was as bad as Vidor?"

"Of course not," Merlin replied. "But when we first met, you were such a prat that I never would have thought that we'd be sitting here like this."

"Shut up, Merlin. I've not been a prat in years."

"If that helps you sleep at night, Arthur, go ahead and believe it," Merlin laughed, then darted for the door before Arthur could reply, allowing the king privacy enough to allow himself a fond smile.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Having Merlin tell off a stuffy noble felt so good! **


	6. Capture

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC. **

**Capture**

**A/N: Thanks again for all your tremendous support and fabulous reviews! Another little detour from the lovelies, but have no fear, they will be back soon:)**

* * *

Within a week of finding herself in his camp, Morgana had completely entrenched herself as the leader of Alvarr's rogue band. The weak man seemed content to allow Morgana to take control. Not that he'd had much choice in the matter, nor that Morgana cared whether he was _willing_ to let her take control.

"My Lady," a breathless man addressed her. Morgana did not acknowledge the man right away, but let him stand in her periphery, fidgeting in his nervousness. Morgana smirked inwardly at her power over this small band of men. Finally, the High Priestess looked at the messenger and quirked an eyebrow in invitation.

"I've just returned from the city, My Lady," he said in a rush. Morgana said nothing, but continued to stare at the man, inwardly delighting at how it unnerved him. Morgana finally decided to speak before the messenger had to change his pants.

"And what news hails from the great city of Camelot?" Morgana drawled, smirking at the man's rapidly paling face.

"There has been some excitement among the citizens. Apparently Merlin, the king's former manservant, has been named First Advisor to the King."

"I know who the worthless wretch is; he's been a pain in my side for many years. Why should I care that Arthur has finally acknowledged where his brain is?"

The fidgety messenger didn't have an answer, not that Morgana had expected one.

"What else? Has Odin left the city? What about troop movements? Did you find out where the knight named Mordred is?"

"Odin left the city a few days before I arrived. The troop movements were being rearranged on account of Princess Mithian's betrothal, and-"

"Mithian's betrothal?!" Morgana interrupted.

"Y-yes. It was announced to the city on the same day that Merlin was appointed First Advisor that Merlin and Princess Mithian were betrothed. They are set to wed in a little less than a fortnight."

Morgana sat momentarily in stunned silence until she suddenly doubled over laughing, much to the discomfiture of the scout reporting to her.

"_Merlin_? Marrying a _princess_? What a fine son-in-law Merlin will make for King Rodor. A bastard and a princess. I would never have thought it possible." Morgana instantly sobered. "What of Sir Mordred?"

"He and a small group of knights left the city some three weeks ago. They're on a training patrol of the borders."

Morgana smiled her first genuine smile in days, calculating things in her mind. This was good, she thought. If Mordred and the patrol left Camelot three weeks before and had followed the traditional training route, they would soon be crossing through the area in which Morgana and Alvarr were currently camped. With Merlin and Mithian set to wed soon, Arthur would be less likely to act quickly to the training patrol's late return. And what patrol of Camelot's finest could ignore reports of magic being performed? Morgana smirked, standing up on a tree stump and raising her voice for all to hear.

"I want everyone to start using magic as obviously as possible. Knock trees down, make lights, strange sounds. The more unnatural the better. The nearest village is a standard stop for Camelot's training patrols. Camelot's finest will not be able to resist investigating such blatant signs of magic," Morgana said, smirking in satisfaction. "We will ambush them and take Sir Mordred prisoner."

"You mean for us to kill the rest of them?" Alvarr asked, his own self-satisfied grin on his face. He hadn't objected to Morgana's immediate and utter take-over of the group. He was not stupid; he knew that Morgana now had the power to kill him with little more than a gesture. But he also knew that if he played his hand well, he could end up very well positioned within their new Camelot. Perhaps even consort to the Queen.

"Yes; kill all but Mordred and perhaps one other to take word back to Camelot. Arthur won't be able to resist coming to rescue his young knight from my grasp. By the time he realizes it is a trap, he'll have a sword through his belly and I'll be there to pick up the pieces," Morgana said, smiling seductively at a smirking Alvarr, his lust for Morgana and her power entirely unveiled.

Sefa however, was only becoming more and more disillusioned with the man who had charmed her into joining his group, promising her retribution for her father's death. Only now that Morgana had taken control did Sefa realize that she had perhaps gotten more than she had bargained for.

While she wasn't entirely forgiving of Queen Guinevere, considering the death sentence she had given Sefa, King Arthur had always been kind, if a bit aloof. Merlin, too, had been entirely good to her in their similar roles as servants to the King and Queen.

"Sefa," Morgana barked, startling the young girl from her thoughts.

"Yes, My Lady?" she asked, as humbly as possible. If there was anything she had learned in Camelot, it was that some nobles expected a certain level of _bootlicking _as Merlin had called it. Morgana seemed the type to expect utter and complete obedience.

"I'm going to need Mandrake roots. Lots of them. Do you know how to find them?" Morgana began. At Sefa's confirming nod, the High Priestess continued. "At least a dozen, more if possible. They cannot be damaged in any way while you harvest them."

Sefa nodded her understanding and jumped when Morgana suddenly yelled, "GO!"

"Yes, My Lady," she stammered, rushing to find a basket and a spade. It seemed she had some digging to do.

* * *

Nothing in all his travels prior to his knighthood could have prepared Mordred for nearly four weeks in the saddle. It had taken him some time before he had really felt comfortable astride the beast, considering that Druids tended to travel by foot, a habit he had retained though he hadn't lived amongst his kind in many years. There was the occasional pony used to pull a cart or carry a pack, but such luxuries were rare amongst the people of his birth.

Mordred winced for perhaps the hundredth time that morning and leaned forward slightly in his stirrups, hoping to take the weight off his aching backside. At the low chuckle from behind him, Mordred knew he hadn't been subtle enough.

"Sore bottom?" Sir Brennis asked, grinning knowingly. He and Sir Caridoc were veteran knights; both had survived more than eight years in the king's army. Both had been tasked with taking the lead for this training patrol. It was a long-standing tradition for a group of new initiates to take a tour of the borderlands on their first patrol to familiarize themselves with the lay of the land and the borders of the kingdom.

It was Mordred's first such outing, accompanied by two other fresh recruits, Sirs Bellvue and Orrin. The others seemed to be adapting better to their time on horseback though, having spent more time around the beasts in their lives prior to their elevation to knighthood.

"It's nothing," Mordred said, sitting back in his seat and straightening his spine.

"There's no shame in admitting it," Sir Caridoc chided from up ahead of Mordred. "We were all there once."

"Shows you've got some stones," Sir Brennis said crudely; Mordred was grateful that the man was behind him, unable to see his pinked cheeks.

"Brennis, there's no need to taint these boys' virgin ears," Caridoc teased, though Orrin and Bellvue scoffed.

"Please, I've been to the tavern with Sir Gwaine already," Orrin said.

"True, after one such excursion, there's nothing sacred left," Bellvue snickered.

Mordred said nothing; though he was prepared to fight with these men as his brothers in arms, he could not help but marvel at their very limited world view. The previous life he had led, roaming from one bandit or nomadic group to another in order to stay alive, was a far cry from the spoiled lives these sons of nobility had.

"We don't have much longer until we reach the next village, Mordred," Sir Caridoc assured the saddle-sore knight. "It is the last stop on our journey before we return to Camelot."

"And to good food, a decent bed and a hot bath," Orrin mused.

"Not to mention plenty of women," Brennis added. "They'll be a sight for sore eyes after you lot."

"Anything would be an improvement after nearly four weeks with your snoring," Caridoc called back, causing a ripple of laughter to move down the line of knights.

It had certainly been a long journey, with plenty of teasing and practical jokes, but Mordred could not deny that it had cemented his loyalty to these new brothers in his life. It gave him a sense of security and inner peace that the former-Druid had been sorely lacking through his adolescence.

"Perhaps you'll find a pretty lass in this village we're headed to," Mordred called over his shoulder, smiling at the glazed look that came over his superior's eyes.

"I'll be glad just for a hot meal," Bellvue groaned.

"Here, here!" Orrin chimed in. Mordred laughed, and shook his head, pondering once more on how different his life had been from his fellow knights. Living amongst the trees and subsisting on dried provisions and scavenged berries was nothing new to him.

Less than an hour later, the trees thinned until they gave way completely to a patchwork of fields guiding the way to a small village nestled in the center. Several young children scampered out from among the mud and stone walled homes and met the knights of Camelot with cheers and laughter. Mordred smiled at the boys who ran alongside their steadily moving horses, their eyes wide at the sight of their chainmail and crimson cloaks. It was an intoxicating feeling, being so utterly welcomed and adored; so different from the distrustful stares and sneers that had often followed Mordred wherever he went.

"My Lords," a harried-looking man greeted them on the edge of the village, bowing low as Sir Caridoc reined in his horse, eased himself down from the saddle and introduced their party.

"Can we trouble your humble village to house us for the night?" the senior knight requested, his brow furrowing at the utter relief on the peasant man's face.

"You are more than welcome, Sir Knights. We gladly welcome you and the protection you could provide, even just for one night."

"Is something troubling you?" Sir Brennis asked, any pretense of finding a pretty lass and relaxing for the evening gone. Several more men emerged from the village and joined the village leader as a few women came running to usher the children into their homes.

"We have been plagued for more than a week now by all sorts of unnaturalness. The trees are moaning with terrible noises, falling even though they are strong and healthy. The night sky over the forest has been lit by all manner of strange lights and the animals are disturbed. We have found several animals with strange deformities and odd characteristics."

"Odd characteristics?" Sir Orrin asked. A young man, perhaps sixteen summers, nodded his head.

"I was hunting two days ago when I saw a fox with deer's legs. My father saw a deer with a snake's tail."

"Sorcery, then," Sir Caridoc said with a grim expression. Mordred's heart sank at the fearful looks that were exchanged around the circle. He had mostly stayed out of Camelot's borders in the last several years. Hearing magic spoken of with fear and apprehension gave Mordred a new appreciation for Emry's precarious position.

"We'll stay the night," Sir Brennis assured them, looking at his fellow veteran knight in silent conversation before giving a curt nod.

"Tomorrow, we'll make a loop back through the forest where you have seen these things, and see if we can't rout the scoundrels."

"Thank you," the first man said, his relief palpable as he bowed again to the five knights. A few young men came forward, offering to take their horses while the knights rested around the central fire pit. Once there, each of them were afforded a hot bowl of stew and a mug of cider. The others dug into their food hungrily, making plans for the next day's detour. Sir Caridoc busied himself with a piece of parchment and quill, scratching out a quick missive to the king, explaining their delay. One of the young men that had tended to their horses quickly volunteered to take the letter on to Camelot at first light.

Mordred half-heartedly pushed the chunks of parsnips around his clay bowl, an uneasy feeling settling itself into his gut at the prospect of hunting down other magic-users. He also couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap; sorcerers didn't announce their presence for no reason. Not in Camelot at any rate.

"Nervous?"

The question startled Mordred from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Brennis eying him with a fatherly expression, though the man couldn't have been more than seven years his senior.

"No," Mordred denied out of habit, though he looked down at the bowl in his hands at Brennis' raised eyebrow. "Just a bit of a bad feeling, I suppose."

"It happens to all of us, when we knowingly head into battle."

"You are expecting battle, then?"

"I fear we cannot expect any less. Why else would a sorcerer make themselves known, but to start a fight?"

Mordred said nothing in reply, though he couldn't help but wonder what Brennis would say if Mordred made himself known as a warlock just then.

"Probably just a senile old wizard," Bellvue chimed in, a cocky look on his face. "Took too many special potions."

"We can hope," Mordred said flatly.

"You going to finish that?" Orrin asked, eying Mordred's bowl hungrily. Mordred chuckled humorlessly and shook his head, offering his bowl to his fellow knight and standing up. "I think I'll turn in."

"I'll wake you for second watch," Sir Caridoc ordered, and Mordred nodded his acceptance before winding his way to where they had set up their bedrolls for the night.

* * *

After nearly a fortnight of tearing down trees, conjuring strange lights over the forest and generally terrorizing the hapless villagers in the area, Morgana's efforts finally paid off.

Alvarr and four of his men lay in wait amongst the trees with Morgana. Before they had been waiting for more than an hour, the distant sound of horses could be heard. Morgana smirked and nearly trembled at the battle reflexes that were tightening her muscles. Alvarr moved to attack just as the first horseman came into view, but Morgana held him fast with a silent grip of magic. It would not do for him to ruin the element of surprise. Morgana inwardly celebrated at the level of control she had over him, and the element of fear that was clear in his expression now that Alvarr knew just what she could do to him.

"_Wait_..." the High Priestess whispered almost soundlessly.

At last, Mordred came into view at the back of the column, and Morgana stepped soundlessly onto the trail behind them. Mustering all of her considerable rage and letting it boil just under the surface, Morgana reached out a hand and closed it into a fist. Each of the mounted knights froze in their saddles, their animals prancing nervously as they sensed the power around them.

Suddenly, Morgana jerked her hand backwards, ripping all five of the soldiers off their horses. The senior knights fell hard, stilling instantly. One of them, Sir Brennis, if Morgana remembered correctly, was dead as soon as he hit the ground. The other lay on his side, struggling to breathe. Morgana ignored him in favor of the younger knights who were quickly scrambling to their feet.

"Morgana!" Mordred called out, surprised to see the witch after he'd stabbed her in the back.

"Did you really think you could kill a High Priestess with a mortal blade?" Morgana asked smugly, holding the young warlock-knight under the grip of her magic. The panic on Mordred's face grew as Alvarr and his men finally descended on the other two knights.

One of the younger knights managed to run the weakest of the sorcerers through and charged at Morgana, a battle cry on his lips. While still holding Mordred captive, Morgana threw her left hand out and cut off the charging knight's air supply. The red-clad soldier dropped to his knees instantly, clutching at his throat as he gagged and choked.

The third knight was fighting valiantly, even Morgana had to admit. Alvarr's men were not talented enough in magic to best the soldier, and Morgana was currently occupied with choking one and holding Mordred captive.

"Alvarr!" Morgana screamed, angry that the knight wasn't dead already.

The former druid raised the crossbow he'd pilfered from the saddlebag of an anxious horse. Acting quickly, Alvarr took aim, using a touch of magic to ensure the bolt hit the knight with a killing shot.

Morgana smirked, then crushed the windpipe of the knight under her grip, regretting that she hadn't done the same to Merlin when she'd had the chance. But the witch was smart enough to realize that Merlin's death was the only thing that would have caused Arthur to abandon his quest to save Rodor. But not again, Morgana vowed; the next time she saw Merlin, he would be dead before he hit the ground.

Mordred looked at her in anger; Morgana saw the determination in his eyes and instantly knew what the knight was thinking. Closing his eyes, Mordred took a deep breath and bowed his head, trying to center himself to call upon his magic as his first mentor had taught him.

Morgana growled, gripping him in the same magical chokehold as she had Merlin. Just before Mordred lost consciousness, Morgana stepped closer and sneered.

"The problem with hiding the fact that you have magic is that you don't learn how to use it properly," she whispered. "You could have been so powerful, so worthy. Look at what Arthur has made you. A stunted coward."

Mordred's eyes grew wider one last time before he passed out. Morgana instantly released his airway and dropped her hold on him, allowing him to fall to the ground like a stone.

"Alvarr!" Morgana barked, eyeing the remaining four sorcerers and the unconscious knight half-buried by leaves.

"Leave the rest, but gather the horses and Mordred. I'm taking him to The Dark Tower at dawn."

Morgana left the others to do the work, her euphoric expression unseen as she disappeared into the trees as silently as she had emerged.

* * *

Sefa waited anxiously in her tent, cleaning the last of the mandrake roots Morgana had demanded. The camp was still and silent except for her, everyone else following the witch on her mad quest to capture a knight of Camelot. Alvarr and the others had changed over the last week and a half. Sefa had originally joined their camp when they had found her running in the dark, her feet blistered and raw from her blind flight.

Alvarr had charmed her, she was sad to realize now. Sefa had imagined quietly living amongst the Druids many times during her childhood. Her father had become bitter, like Alvarr was. Sefa could see that now. That was why they had left the Druid camp she had been born in; her father had not been willing to live in peace.

The mandrake roots made her uneasy. Or rather, what Morgana had in mind for them. Her magical knowledge and herb lore was sadly lacking, having lived on the run, moving from place to place with her father until he had sent her to find work in Camelot. She had thought her father was proud of her when she had written to tell him that she had been given a job in the citadel; the queen's handmaiden no less. Then his requests had started, and before Sefa had realized what was happening, she had been charged with treason. She had loved her father; it had taken her many weeks to come to the realization of what it was he had done to her by turning her into his unwitting pawn. She had thought the queen a friendly and personable figure. She had allowed Sefa to call her Gwen when they were alone in the queen's chambers. She had been very conflicted by how she felt about it all.

Then Morgana had come.

Sefa was at a loss as to how her father could have allied himself with such a bitter and hateful woman. She had no remorse, and no thought for the innocents caught in her wake. She had spent time with the king and queen; she knew them to be good people. Yes, they were against magic, and now that Sefa had come to know Morgana Pendragon for who she really was, she could almost understand the king's position.

Sefa placed the last mandrake root into the basket with the others, and a shudder went down her spine as she thought of what the witch could possibly have in mind for them. More and more, Sefa was regretting not just the moment she had found Morgana Pendragon, but also telling Alvarr that she had. She had hoped that by getting to know the high priestess, she would understand her father and the cause that he had died for a little better. But all that she had realized was that King Arthur was a good and noble king; far kinder and more merciful than his sister, even to the people that Morgana professed to be helping. Sefa could only hope that she could find some way to make up for her mistakes.

That was when Sefa's eyes had fallen upon the basket of mandrakes. Morgana had expressly instructed her that they could not be damaged. Perhaps, Sefa thought rebelliously, a small nick would go unnoticed? She had just finished doing just that with three of the mandrakes when the triumphant shouts and gleeful cheers echoed across the camp; they were back.

Dumping the mandrake in her hands into the basket and rushing out of her tent, Sefa's eyes widened as the rag-tag band came into view, dragging a scarlet cloaked knight between them. Sefa looked into the young knight's unconscious face, seeking any sign of him from her memory, but to no avail.

"Alvarr, tie him up!" the witch commanded before turning to the young woman sadly watching the knight. "Sefa, this is Sir Mordred," Morgana said, her voice falsely sweet, and her thinly veiled warning clear. "He's a traitor to his kind just as Emrys is. Tried to stab me in the back. But no matter; he'll be a fine puppet."

Sefa's mind froze in horror, recalling vague memories of the warnings of meddling with mandrake roots and realizing what the witch had in store for the young knight. Her stomach churned at what she now realized she had done in harvesting the mandrakes, wishing she had denied any knowledge of what they looked like. Then Mordred groaned, his head lolling as he struggled to regain consciousness.

"Sefa!" Morgana called; to her disappointment the witch was just emerging from Sefa's tent with the roots in hand. "Give Sir Mordred some water. I can't have him unfit for travel."

With shaking hands, Sefa found a water skin and brought it to the groggy knight, holding the vessel to his lips and letting a few drops into Mordred's mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Sir Mordred," she whispered, struggling to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes. "The king will come for you, I'm sure. Be strong until then."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Next chapter is one I'm sure you've all been waiting for. ;)**


	7. Vows

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Can I just say right now, this is probably one of my favorite chapters? ;) **

* * *

**Vows**

After his first council meeting as Arthur's advisor, Merlin found himself in the unexpected position of hero amongst the servants. Even those that had been less than pleased about his sudden promotion were now greeting the warlock in the hallways with a wide smile and a nod of respect. Merlin had been a bit confused about the sudden change of heart, till he realized that word of his thoroughly putting Lord Vidor in his place had spread like wildfire on a dry summer day. The corpulent lord had long been the bane of the castle servants; their vicarious triumph over Merlin's success helped their tongues wag even faster. Merlin had no doubt that, with the rate the gossip was spreading within the city, the news of his and Mithian's betrothal would soon spread beyond Camelot. It had already spread to Ealdor; a letter had been dispatched to inform Hunith of her son's impending marriage.

Merlin was in yet another council meeting when a knock on the door interrupted Lord Gevin's droning speech on increasing the land share for pig farmers. Merlin was glad of the interruption since Lord Gevin had the misfortune of resembling the animal he was so fond of eating and Merlin had to clench his teeth to keep from laughing aloud every time the unfortunate man snorted.

"Sire," the guard said, bowing as he entered the council room.

"What is it Perrin?" Arthur asked.

"There is a visitor for Lo-, er, for Merlin, Sire," the man stumbled over how to properly address the former manservant.

"Send them in," Arthur allowed, ignoring the guard's gaffe as the man stood aside to reveal the visitor.

"Mother!" Merlin called, jumping up from the table to greet Hunith.

"I suppose that ends our meeting," Arthur said, much to Lord Gevin's dismay.

"Merlin!" Hunith exclaimed. "I understand that much has happened since your last letter!"

"Yes, there is someone I would very much like for you to meet," Merlin said, grinning like a fool and taking his mother by the hand to meet his betrothed. Hunith smiled as Merlin excitedly dragged her along behind him. She hadn't seen her son this unreservedly enthusiastic since he was a small boy, enthralled by his newfound ability to set the cooking fire alight with merely a thought.

Mithian was dining with Gwen when Merlin burst unannounced into the king's chambers as he often had as Arthur's manservant.

"Mithian!" he called out joyously, pulling his mother to stand beside him at the table. "I'd like you to meet my mother, Hunith."

"It's a pleasure to meet you! Merlin has told me so much about you," Mithian said, standing to grasp Hunith's hands and pull the older woman into a hug.

"I feel I am at a great disadvantage," Hunith said, entirely astonished by how friendly the princess was. When Merlin's letter had arrived, Hunith had been very worried that Merlin was being used in a political maneuver and that he would be discarded as soon as he was no longer useful. But Hunith recognised exactly what everyone else had within just a few moments of seeing Merlin and Mithian together. There was something there, which would surely deepen with time into a great love; Hunith could see that they were already well on their way.

Hunith was happy for her son, but she couldn't put aside her anxiety for him until she could speak to him privately. Though it seemed that privacy would have to wait; Mithian took her leave of the queen and joined Merlin in escorting Hunith to her guest chambers. The peasant woman wasn't sure how much Mithian had been told, and the prospect of Merlin's secret coming out at an inopportune time set Hunith's nerves alight.

Though she had never yet laid eyes on Merlin's mother, Mithian had recognised the fear hidden in Hunith's expression for what it was. It was well concealed; Mithian had no doubt that was a skill that the peasant woman had honed while Merlin was still just a foundling. However, the princess had not become a shrewd stateswoman for being unobservant. Thus, she felt she needed to put Hunith's fears to rest as soon as possible.

"You'll be sleeping in a room fit for royalty, Mother," Merlin said as he opened the door with a flourish. His smile was undeniably one of the widest Mithian had ever seen on the warlock's face. He laughed joyfully at Hunith's awed expression as she turned in place and took in the quarters she would be staying in.

"This is beautiful," Hunith whispered, smiling at her son's pleased expression. Merlin looked at Mithian, then to his mother, hoping they would fall easily into friendly conversation as only ladies seemed able to do.

Mithian latched the door quietly, ensuring their privacy as she turned to Hunith and walked pacifyingly towards her.

"I _know_," Mithian began suddenly, causing Hunith to look at the princess in alarm.

"What?" the peasant woman whispered, hoping that it wasn't what she feared.

"About Merlin's magic," Mithian explained gently, then she smiled at Hunith. "I've known since before our betrothal. I saw him using magic to save King Arthur and my father. His secret will not be revealed by me," she vowed.

Hunith visibly relaxed and let out the breath she'd been holding.

"I am very relieved to hear you say that," Hunith admitted, smiling gratefully at the woman who would shortly be her daughter-in-law.

"Perfect. Who's hungry?" Merlin asked, utterly giddy and completely unfazed by what had just passed between the two women.

* * *

"How are you doing, my son?" Hunith asked as Merlin escorted her along his favorite walking path early the next morning.

"Good."

"Just good?"

Merlin looked at his mother searchingly for a moment, but Hunith had long since mastered her expressionless gaze. It had been a necessary part of raising such a powerful and stubborn boy on her own.

"I'm happy, excited, euphoric, scared, overwhelmed and perhaps a bit nervous," Merlin admitted.

"I thought as much," Hunith replied with a knowing smile.

"Do you remember the cursed girl I told you about? Freya?" Merlin asked softly.

"I do."

"Something I _didn't_ tell you was that I almost ran away with her," Merlin admitted, looking sheepishly at his feet to avoid his mother's astonished gaze.

"Truly?!" Hunith asked, shocked. Merlin merely nodded.

"She was a druid, all alone in the world, and very pretty. She was the first person besides you to say that my magic was beautiful."

Hunith nodded, but said nothing. She could see the conflicted confusion on her son's face.

"I fell in love with her before I had known her even two full days. I was going to take her out of the city and abandon Arthur and my destiny. Then she died," Merlin trailed off.

"What makes you mention this Freya?" Hunith prompted after a few moments of silence.

"Am I foolish to believe myself in love with Mithian?" Merlin asked after a long moment of silence.

"Of course not," Hunith replied simply. "No more foolish than you were to believe in your love for Freya. Love is the easiest gift to give, after all."

"In all the years since Freya died, I've never entertained the notion of loving another. I thought that I had grown up and moved beyond the love-at-first-sight trappings of youth. But Mithian is different. _I'm_ different. It feels like a much more mature feeling than it did with Freya. But is this happening too fast?"

"I've never told you how I fell in love with your father," Hunith said in response. Merlin looked at his mother with wide eyes.

"You've barely said anything about my father," Merlin countered.

"Balinor came to Ealdor as the sun was setting behind the distant hills. He was exhausted, hungry, and grieving for his fellow dragonlords and dragon kin. He asked for me by name, and when the others directed him to me, he handed me a letter from my uncle. I had not seen Gaius in many years, but he knew I would help Balinor. I looked into your father's eyes and he said to me, '_Gaius never mentioned that you were so lovely.'_"

"That's it?" Merlin whispered, trying valiantly to swallow past the lump in his throat. Hunith smiled.

"Of course not, Merlin. You must understand, the heart has its own time, and it doesn't keep with the sun in the sky or the seasons of the year. By the end of his second day in Ealdor, I knew I loved Balinor, and when he left just a few weeks later, I knew that I would love him till the day I died. But that also does not mean that I will never love again."

"Then I suppose I got my heart from you," Merlin mused. Hunith smiled at her son fondly.

"Your father was very much like you," Hunith answered. "You got your heart from the both of us."

* * *

Time seemed to be passing inexorably faster with every day. Merlin however, was determined to make the most of the month of courting he had negotiated. He and Mithian dined together for most meals and took a ride or a walk together every morning after breakfast. Often, they were accompanied by Arthur and Gwen or sometimes by Hunith or Rodor. But when they could get away on their own, Merlin had delighted in showing Mithian the beauty of magic.

It was on such an outing, with less than a week till their wedding, that Merlin and Mithian were able to escape the harried preparations back at the citadel.

"There is one other thing that you should know about me, before we wed," Merlin said nervously once he was sure there was no one around them.

"You haven't got six toes on each foot, have you?" Mithian deadpanned. Merlin chuckled, but shook his head.

"Nothing so simple, I'm afraid."

"Simple? Tell that to the man with twelve toes," Mithian joked, trying to lighten Merlin's mood.

"It has to do with my father, actually," Merlin began, chuckling.

"Oh?" Mithian asked, curious. "You've told me he had magic and that he escaped the purge with help from Gaius. Was there something else?"

"Yes. You see, he didn't _just_ have magic-"

"Was he a warlock, like you?" Mithian asked, causing Merlin's brow to wrinkle.

"You know, I don't even know. I'm not sure if my mother or Gaius would know either. All I know is that before my father died, he saw me use magic to throw the man who'd dealt him the fatal blow. He said, '_I see you have your father's talent,' _so I know he had magic. He was skilled with healing spells. He was a good swordsman; he stepped into the path of the blade meant for me, instead of using magic, so I don't think he was very skilled in defensive magic. I know I avoid swords if I can. It's much easier to use magic when possible-"

"Your father?" Mithian asked, pulling Merlin back on topic; he smiled sheepishly.

"Whether or not he was a warlock, he did have a special gift that he inherited from _his _father. He was a dragonlord."

Silence reigned as Mithian processed Merlin's words. Finally, Mithian slowly nodded.

"And why is it so important that I know this?"

"Because the gift is passed from father to son upon the death of the father. My father died nearly seven years ago."

"_You_ are a dragonlord as well then?" Mithian asked with wide eyes. Merlin nodded.

"As our sons will be, should we have them, when I have passed on."

Mithian blinked in surprise. "And the dragon that you sought counsel from?"

"Is still very much alive, and _technically_ under my command," Merlin answered. Mithian nodded in awe.

"Is it then possible for me to meet the dragon?" Mithian asked curiously.

"I'll introduce you to him soon, but probably not till after the wedding. I wouldn't be entirely surprised if he has already foreseen something of it, though. In any case, while I do have the power to command him, he is rather fond of scolding me. I think it would be better to _tell _him that we _are _married than give him the chance to protest."

"Better to seek forgiveness than permission?" Mithian teased.

"Something like that."

"You do not think he would be happy for you?" Mithian asked sadly.

Merlin smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"He tries to be empathetic, but dragons are solitary creatures. He's referred to me as a _creature of magic_ before, and as a dragonlord, my soul and his are brothers. I think Kilgharrah sometimes becomes so focused on that kinship and on my destiny as Emrys that he forgets that at heart, I'm just Merlin, a peasant farmer from Ealdor."

"A _creature _of magic?" Mithian asked curiously.

"In some ways, he is correct. I _was _born with magic; it is an essential part of who I am. As far as I understand it, I do not draw upon the magic of the earth as another sorcerer's gift would allow them. Instead, I draw upon my own magic within. In a sense, I am magic and magic is me. But I _am _still human. I've sacrificed a lot in my quest to fulfill this destiny and maybe it's selfish of me, but now that I'm so close to something I want very much, I don't want Kilgharrah to tell me that I'm being foolish and to stop ignoring my destiny."

Mithian nodded understandingly and smiled at what Merlin had admitted.

"You want to marry me _'very much'_?" she asked slyly. Merlin smiled and ducked his head.

"I don't think it's so hard to believe. You are a beautiful and charming princess, who consented to marry a rumpled, foolish peasant," Merlin teased.

"I never saw a foolish peasant," Mithian countered, then grinned teasingly. "Maybe a _little _rumpled, though." Merlin shook his head fondly.

"A month ago, to everyone else, I was little more than a fool whom Arthur sometimes thought wise. But now, I can actually lob him over the head if he gets stupid and call it advice."

Mithian laughed delightedly at the thought.

"So an all-powerful warlock of prophecy _and_ a dragonlord. Anything else interesting hidden within your depths?" Mithian teased.

"Not that I'm aware of. Though I'm constantly surprised by how many people know more about me than I do," Merlin laughed. "I'll let you know if I find out anything else shocking."

"I don't think my father knew quite what he was getting into when he offered you my hand!"

"Most people don't know what they're getting into when it comes to me," Merlin chuckled.

"I think they see the most important parts," Mithian refuted. Merlin raised an eyebrow in question.

"They see your kindness, your loyalty, your friendship and your bravery. I know that is what my father saw. It is what _I_ see in you. Though you have powerful magic, it is not what makes you who you are. _You _may believe that, but _I_ don't. You and your morals and ideals are what make you strong. The magic just makes you _stronger_," Mithian finished softly. Merlin smiled at her gratefully.

"Here's where we're stopping," Merlin said as the shallow creek came into view. He quickly spread a blanket on the grass and pulled their picnic from the basket as Mithian settled herself.

"My father was right, you know. You are an uncommon man, Merlin," Mithian said as Merlin sat beside her. He blushed, ducking his head at her compliment.

"Such beauty requires a token," Merlin said, tired of talking about himself and seeking to change the subject. He held out his hands and whispered, "_Blóstmá."_

Mithian gasped as a red rose blossomed within Merlin's cupped hands. He held it out to her imploringly and Mithian reached to take it. She was pleasantly surprised, however, when Merlin grasped her hands in his and leaned in to place a lingering, passionate kiss upon her lips.

* * *

"Leon, what, if anything, have we heard from the training patrol?" Arthur asked during his weekly debriefing of his knights. The overdue patrol had left just a day before Mithian had ridden into Camelot in the dead of night.

"Aside from the communication from them two weeks ago, Sire, there has been nothing. We know only that they were planning on making another loop of the southeastern border. They should have been back by now, though, My Lord."

"Send a few scouts in their direction; they've been gone too long, even for a training patrol," Arthur instructed. It wasn't unusual for such excursions to take three to four weeks, but they had been gone for nearly five.

"Yes, Sire," Leon nodded.

"Who is on that patrol?" Arthur asked, knowing who it was, but wanting confirmation all the same.

"Sirs Caridoc and Brennis are leading the training. It is Sirs Bellvue, Orrin and Mordred's first patrol."

"Keep me informed," Arthur ordered, dismissing the knights. As they filed out, Merlin met Arthur where he stood in the middle of the council room.

"Was there a reason they decided to make another loop of the border?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrow curiously. Arthur shook his head.

"A messenger from a village to the southeast brought a missive from them detailing their plans, but not the reason for them."

"Patrols don't usually go missing in that area," Merlin said, his brow furrowing. He was still highly distrustful of Mordred, though he couldn't be sure if it was his own instinct that caused the distrust, or if it stemmed solely from Kilgharrah's warnings or the vision shown to Merlin by the Lochru.

"No, and it concerns me that we don't know _where _Morgana is," Arthur admitted.

"You think she had something to do with the missing patrol?"

"It wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Arthur scoffed.

"No, it wouldn't," Merlin conceded regretfully.

"If the scouts find a trail, we'll have to go after them."

"That might be a bit difficult, Arthur," Merlin countered.

"Why? We've done it plenty of times."

"I'm supposed to be getting married in two days. I don't think Mithian or Rodor would appreciate it if we left Camelot before then."

"Listen to you, one might think you were excited to get married," Arthur teased.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

"It's not much to get anxious over. You won't remember a thing of the wedding. The feast will be a blur. It's what comes _later _that-"

"Arthur!"

"What? I'm imparting crucial advice here that a man is _supposed _to hear from his father at some point in his life," Arthur explained.

"As much as I appreciate the gesture, Gwen is one of my best friends. I'd like to be able to look her in the eye again," Merlin grimaced. Arthur and Merlin sat in silence for a few moments, then Arthur snorted. Merlin began to chuckle and then the both of them burst out laughing. After a moment, Merlin grew serious again.

"We'll find out what happened to the patrol. If it was Morgana, we'll be ready for her. She will _not _succeed."

Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder and laughed anew at Merlin's wince.

"Gwaine still '_congratulating_' you, then?"

"Every chance he gets."

* * *

Two days later, Merlin gasped into wakefulness before the sun had even risen when his bedcovers were suddenly ripped off his body, assaulting his senses with the crisp morning air. It was only through great restraint that he managed not to smash his blanket thief into the far wall with a wave of raw, defensive magic.

"Rise and shine!"

"Time to get up!"

"Today's the big day!"

"Or should we say tonight's the big night?"

"Gwaine, don't be crude."

Looking blearily around himself, Merlin groaned in frustration and dropped his head back to his pillow. His blanket thieves chuckled at his reaction and he grimaced in reply to Arthur, Leon, Percival, Gwaine and Elyan all standing around his bed, grinning like fools.

"What sort of greeting is that?" Arthur asked, though it was obvious that the king was highly amused. "What happened to all the annoying, endless energy that fueled you when you were yanking me from my bed to drop me on the floor?!"

"He yanked you out of bed and dropped you on the floor?!" Gwaine asked gleefully.

"Repeatedly," Arthur growled, smacking Merlin's socked foot in retribution. Merlin yelped and sat up with a start, lunging at the king to pry his covers out of Arthur's hands as the others snorted into their fists at the impromtu wresting match.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you, Merlin," Gwaine chuckled as the former manservant and the king tugged the blankets back and forth.

"What are you even doing in here?" Merlin groaned, winning his covers back and throwing them over his head as he flung himself back onto his bed.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what today is," Arthur groused, his hands on his hips.

"The wedding isn't until the third bell of the afternoon," Merlin replied with a muffled voice. "Why are you in here before the sun has even risen?"

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin," Gwaine said in mock disappointment. "We're here to get you ready!"

In the end, Merlin discovered that Gwaine did not mean getting the warlock dressed. Rather, his blanket was taken once more and he was forced, bleary-eyed, into a chair at the table where they all took a seat. Looking around the table at the knights' and Arthur's smug grins, Merlin suddenly had a very bad feeling that he wasn't particularly going to like this preparation.

"So tonight, you'll really become a man," Gwaine began. Merlin only just managed not to vanish the man's mouth in a fit of temper.

By the time the king and his knights deemed him 'ready,' Merlin's face was entirely red and he wasn't sure he'd be able to look anyone in the eye ever again. He hadn't wanted to get that talk from Arthur, let alone from five of his closest friends at the same time, and in excruciating detail. It was the most embarrassing unofficial meeting of the Round Table that Merlin had ever experienced.

A timid knock on the door revealed the breakfast platters that Arthur had requested. Merlin was grateful for the respite from the advice the knights had so freely imparted. After the plates were mostly cleared, Merlin was pleasantly surprised when Gaius and his mother came in to offer their best wishes and place a motherly kiss upon her son's brow. Though Merlin was happy that Hunith left soon after to help see to Mithian. As much as he loved his mother, Merlin hadn't been able to keep the blush from his cheeks when Hunith asked if Merlin was ready. He wasn't about to try and explain why he was suddenly rather red-faced and tongue-tied by the word _'ready_.'

Then the knights took a good deal of pleasure in stuffing Merlin into his wedding clothes before they left him to Gaius' care in order to prepare themselves for the festivities.

"I didn't think I'd ever see this day," the older man said proudly.

"Neither did I, to be honest," Merlin agreed.

"If _anyone _deserves this happiness, it's _you_," Gaius continued. "You are coming ever closer to fulfilling your destiny, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin said, trying not to get choked up. His elderly mentor nodded, but remained tight-lipped as he patted Merlin's shoulder affectionately. The warlock chose not to mention the tears brimming in Gaius' eyes.

Before he could even blink, it seemed, Merlin was standing before the dais at the front of the great hall as their guests filed in. Arthur and Gwen were presiding over the ceremony, seated in their thrones on the dais while Geoffrey of Monmouth stood just below them on the first step, waiting to perform the ceremony.

Merlin _thought _he was doing well; that he could tell Arthur that he was a dollop-headed idiot for not remembering his own wedding ceremony. Then the guards at the entryway pulled open the massive doors at the end of the hall. Merlin was instantly struck dumb as King Rodor led Mithian up the center aisle, her white-and-silver gown resplendent in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Her face was veiled in Nemethian tradition; Merlin was reminded of the first time he had lain eyes upon the princess all those years ago. Merlin took in a huge, shaky breath. Though her face was covered, the gauzy fabric could not hide the ecstatic sparkle in her eyes.

Once again, Merlin was struck at how beautiful and radiant Mithian was. Not only that, but she was being escorted towards him in order to become his wife. It was all he could do to keep his mouth from gaping open like an imbecile.

Merlin reflected later that it was a good thing he managed to remember how to speak when it was required and had thus gotten through the ceremony without being prodded like a clueless lamb. As soon as Mithian's hand had been placed in Merlin's, Geoffrey's deep, resonant voice had suddenly sounded as though he was speaking from under a jousting helmet. There was something about Merlin wishing to become one with Mithian, (of course he did) and did she wish to be one with Merlin. The warlock was then surprised to realize that their hands were already entwined within a garland.

"...kiss your bride."

Suddenly, before he fully realized what he was doing, Merlin was grinning as he lifted her veil. Then he cradled her face as he had the first time he had kissed her, and pressed his lips to hers. The crowd fell away as his lips moved over hers, reluctant to pull away from their intoxicating draw. Finally, he pulled back and looked into her shining eyes, only vaguely aware of their clapping, cheering audience. Only once Geoffrey had retrieved the ceremonial garland did they start to move again.

"We're married," Merlin said stupidly, his mind still in awe as he led Mithian back down the aisle on his arm. Mithian laughed delightedly as they reached the hallway and moved towards the Great Hall for the feast.

"We are," she agreed, then leaned closer. "And there weren't even any dragons to say nay," she whispered conspiratorially into her husband's ear.

Merlin laughed joyously, then paused and leaned in to kiss his bride once more.

"Save it for later," Arthur entreated them as he and Guinevere followed shortly behind the newly wedded couple. The king looked pointedly at the tapestries until Merlin finally pulled back from Mithian and continued down the corridor, their smiles irrepressible. Gwen was nearly weeping for joy, she was so glad to see her friends deliriously happy.

The feast was grand; only the king and queen's wedding celebration had been more opulent. Merlin delighted in having his mother there to enjoy it. He knew that Hunith had never seen so much food in one place in all her life. Even still, Merlin was proud when Hunith took her seat beside Mithian's father and conversed with him and Gwen as easily as if she were born to rank.

As the night wore on, Merlin made it a point to refuse anything the knights pushed his way. He did not feel like repeating the drunken magical shenanigans nor the hangover experience from their betrothal feast, especially after all the embarrassment he had suffered suffered through that morning. After Gaius, King Rodor and Hunith bid them goodnight and the older guests retired from the feast, the knights began climbing upon the tables to give more and more ridiculous speeches.

Merlin shook his head at Gwaine's antics with fond exasperation, then looked to Mithian and raised his eyebrow, the barest hint of a grin on his face. Mithian smiled and gave a subtle nod of agreement. The both of them slid their chairs back slowly, not wanting to draw the attention of their exuberant and intoxicated friends. Merlin saw Gwen smile knowingly at them and he put his finger to his lips, silently pleading with her to help them escape unnoticed. The queen smiled in response and drew Arthur's attention to keep the newlyweds' departure as quiet as possible.

In the dim, quiet corridor, Merlin smiled impishly and took Mithian's hand to lead her running and giggling through the deserted halls to their chambers. Once at the entrance, Merlin surprised Mithian by gathering her up into his arms and opening their door with a wordless touch of magic as he placed a tender kiss upon her lips.

* * *

By the next morning, Merlin had to concede that Arthur had never been more right. The ceremony was an utter blank after seeing Mithian enter the hall. He could hardly remember _what _he had eaten at the feast and he was _sure _that he would _never _recall the speeches and toasts that had been made.

But what came _later_, Merlin would remember for the rest of his days. Beautiful and wonderful had been Mithian's words, but for Merlin, it had been profoundly eye-opening as well as literally earth-shaking.

Merlin had known from the first few days that Mithian had been in Camelot that he held her in high regard. After the quest to save her father and the three nights following that they spent conversing beside Gaius' fire, Merlin had known that he cared a great deal for her. Within three _weeks _of courting her, he knew that he preferred her over any other woman. But on their wedding night, Merlin had known without a doubt that he _loved _Mithian, and that he _would _love her for all of his life.

* * *

Three days later, Merlin joined Mithian in the courtyard to bid Hunith and King Rodor farewell. Hunith kissed both their cheeks and patted Merlin's fondly before climbing onto the horse Arthur insisted on giving her when the peasant woman outright refused an armed escort. Merlin raised a hand in farewell and watched his mother ride out of the gates. Hunith turned back one last time and returned the wave, nodding at her son and turning back towards Ealdor once more. Rodor stepped forward then.

"Mithian, darling," the King of Nemeth said, taking his daughter by the shoulders and smiling proudly at her.

"I will miss you," Mithian said, smiling gently at her elderly father.

"And I, you, of course," Rodor chuckled. "But it does my heart glad to see you wed, and so happy."

"I am," Mithian agreed. Her father smiled joyfully and moved to address her husband.

"Merlin," Rodor said, gripping the warlock's forearm and nodding his approval. "You've done me proud. I've heard that Lord Vidor still hasn't gotten over your words of wisdom."

Merlin nodded, looking down at his boots to hide his puckish grin.

"Take care of her, Merlin" Rodor said, all sense of joviality gone. Merlin raised his head to meet the King of Nemeth's eyes.

"You have my solemn promise to do so."

Rodor smiled again at Merlin's candor and finally stepped back to join his escort from Nemeth.

"Be sure to keep me informed should I become a grandfather," Rodor said, smiling at the now blushing newlyweds. Merlin laughed, understanding yet again where Mithian had gotten her playful nature. After Rodor's company had moved out of sight, Merlin turned to Mithian.

"Did you need me for anything?"

"No, I'll be fine. I know you wanted to drop in on Arthur's meeting for his private Round Table."

"It's not until after the midday bell," Merlin shrugged, then smiled. "You would fit quite well at that round table."

"Because it's so big?" Mithian asked facetiously, her eyes wide and innocent.

"No," Merlin laughed but then grew serious. "You are strong, intelligent and loyal. All things that those at the Round Table share."

"You flatter me once again, Merlin."

"I never flatter any one. Arthur would be the first to tell you, I'm no bootlicker," Merlin chuckled, taking Mithian by the hand and leading her towards their favorite walking path. They did have some time before the meeting after all, and Merlin meant to spend it well.

* * *

"I wondered when we'd be seeing you next," Arthur chuckled when Merlin showed up at the meeting that afternoon.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted happily. The rest of the knights called out their greetings as Merlin took a seat at the table and let out a huge yawn.

"Tired, Merlin?" Arthur drawled.

"Something keeping you up at night?" Gwaine chimed in, much to the other's humor. Merlin said nothing, but his blazing face set the knights laughing again.

"I take it the wedding night was a success?" Gwaine asked. "Admit it, our advice was invaluable and well worth it!"

"I refuse to dignify that with a response," Merlin replied impishly, sending more chuckles through the room.

"Speaking of your wedding night, did you feel that tremor?" Arthur asked curiosly. Merlin instantly bit back his initial response. He didn't think it prudent to tell Arthur that of course he felt it, he had caused it.

"I'll bet they were too busy playing backgammon to have felt such a thing," Gwaine teased.

"No, Fox and Geese. A much more appropriate game for one's wedding night," Percival interjected with a snort.

"Well Merlin? Did you feel the tremor that night?" Leon asked with false innocence. Merlin rolled his eyes at their juvenile antics, which only made them laugh all the more.

"Believe me, I felt it," Merlin assured them. It was the truth, after all.

"It wasn't as noticeable as the quake at the tomb, but they were fairly close together, time-wise. I wonder if the two were related?" Arthur mused.

"I think that's likely," Merlin ventured, skirting the truth.

"What do _you _know about earth tremors?" Arthur asked in disbelief.

"Plenty," Merlin defended himself. "I r-"

"Read it in a book," Arthur finished. "Is that your answer for everything? Where are all these mysterious books with answers for everything?"

"Have you not _met _Gaius?" Merlin asked incredulously. "I kid you not, I think he does in fact have a book for everything. And who do you think Gaius has had doing half his research for the better part of ten years?"

"I'm guessing it wasn't Arthur," Percival chuckled.

"Do you think, then, all-knowing First Advisor, that we should gather some surplus provisions in case we see more of these quakes?" Arthur teased, cutting off what he was sure would have been an impressive rant by said advisor.

Merlin willed his face not to flush as he looked at Arthur as innocently as possible and said, "Spare provisions are never a bad idea. You never know when an earthquake might strike."

"My Lord," a breathless guard shouted as he burst into the room. Arthur's first thought was to reprimand the guard for entering his chambers in such a way when the state of the man made him hold his tongue.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"The scouts are returned from the southeast; they'll be in the city within the half-hour."

"Is there any sign of the training patrol with them?"

"There appears to be one injured man among them, My Lord," the guard admitted regretfully.

"Have them report to me as soon as they arrive."

The guard nodded sharply and bowed low before scrambling from the room. Arthur looked around at his most loyal friends.

"Let us hope they bear good news," he murmured.

No more than twenty minutes later, the leader of the search party reported to Arthur's chambers. The knights all stood a little taller and Merlin and Arthur both sat up a bit straighter at the solemn look on the scout's face.

"Your Highness, I've come to report on the missing patrol."

"Please, tell us anything you can," Arthur entreated.

"My men and I traveled to the village that the patrol sent the missive from. There we found that the villagers had told the knights of rumors that there had been sorcerers in the forest. Sirs Caridoc and Brennis decided to take another loop around the southeastern border to see if they could discover any signs that such activity was taking place."

"What were the rumors of sorcerers?" Merlin asked, wondering if it was Morgana or a rogue group like Alvarr's had been. Or even a peaceful group like the druids.

"There had been strange happenings. Strong, healthy trees being felled without a storm; animals falling prey to all manner of deformities. Strange lights and sounds from the forest. Terrified screams. The villagers were understandably frightened."

Merlin looked gravely to Arthur, only to find the same expression on the king's face. There was little doubt that Morgana was behind the strange happenings.

"Did you find any further sign of the patrol?"

"Yes, Sire," the scout confirmed.

"And?" Arthur prompted. The knights all stepped forward, fearing the worst.

"Sirs Brennis, Bellvue and Orrin are dead, though only Bellvue had obvious wounds. Sir Mordred is missing. Sir Caridoc is with the physician as we speak. He was only able to tell us one thing. _Morgana_."

* * *

Arthur wasted no time in going to Gaius' chambers and Merlin followed right on his heels. Gaius was in the middle of spooning one of his tonics into the injured knight, who lay propped on a mountain of pillows on the patient's cot.

"Sir Caridoc," Arthur greeted, moving to stand beside the bed.

"He needs rest, Sire," Gaius interjected.

"I only need a moment, Gaius," Arthur insisted. Gaius pursed his lips and glared, but held his tongue.

"Caridoc?" Arthur began again.

"I am sorry, My Lord," the man rasped.

"He has several broken ribs, Sire," Gaius complained, though Caridoc held up a hand to quiet the physician, and related the incident with Morgana.

"I think they thought I was dead. The witch ordered the others to grab Mordred and then they disappeared into the trees. It all happened in the span of a minute or two. By the time I was able to move, they were long gone and I realized that I couldn't even get up with my ribs injured. I lay on the forest floor for a day and a night until the search party found me."

"Thank you, Sir Caridoc. Your information is invaluable."

Arthur and Merlin looked gravely at one another; Merlin knew immediately what Arthur intended to do. Without another word, Arthur spun on his heel and strode briskly from the room. Merlin looked momentarily at a worried Gaius, then hurried after his king.

"You can't tell me that you intend to go after Mordred on your own," Merlin said as soon as he caught up with Arthur.

"No, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

"Arthur, it's madness. This is Morgana we're talking about. She's probably done this just to get you to come to her!"

"He is one of my knights. I cannot leave him in her hands."

"How do we know he's an unwilling captive? He's worked with her before!" Merlin argued.

"That's exactly why we have to go after him. He literally stabbed Morgana in the back to save my life. How do you think Morgana will react to that?"

"I cannot approve of this, Arthur," Merlin insisted, ignoring the king's question.

"It's not your job to approve."

"Really?! I thought being First Advisor meant something. Or did you do that just for Rodor's sake?" Merlin asked, stopping Arthur in his tracks.

"Do not question my motives, Merlin. I made you First Advisor, but I am still king. Mordred is as good as my brother. I cannot leave him to Morgana's mercy for she has none."

"Then I'm coming with you," Merlin vowed.

"You've only just been married. You said yourself that Mithian wouldn't appreciate it if you took off any time soon."

"Mordred may be as good as your brother, but _you,"_Merlin said, jabbing his finger into the king's chest, "Are as good as _mine. _I'm coming, Mithian will understand."

Arthur smiled gratefully at his friend, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Then tell the others. We ride at dawn."

* * *

**As always, thanks for reading! ****;)**


	8. A Quest

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Many thanks to those who reviewed! You'll see a couple bits plucked and tweaked from The Disir. While I hated that Merlin denied magic's place in Camelot, I loved a few of the moments in that episode. :)**

* * *

**A Quest**

Merlin rushed through the corridors, looking for Mithian. He'd already told Leon and Gwaine that they were leaving at dawn; they both assured Merlin that they would pass on the message to Elyan and Percival.

Rounding the last corner before their chambers, Merlin finally spotted her. Reveling in the way his heart quickened at the sight of his wife, the warlock pushed aside his fears that his departure on the morrow would leave her anxious. It couldn't be helped, not with Arthur hell-bent on going after Mordred, and as Merlin had told his king, Mithian would understand.

"Mithian!" he called, taking pleasure in the smile that immediately lit up her face. However, his delight was squashed when his obvious disquiet made her smile dip into a frown.

"Merlin, what is it?" Mithian asked. Merlin nodded towards their chambers and ushered her in to ensure their privacy. Before he could stop himself, Merlin pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, his heart already hurting at the thought of leaving her so soon. Mithian willingly allowed the kiss, returning it with equal fervor, though she could sense Merlin's urgency in it. Pulling herself away from his searching lips, Mithian stepped back.

"As pleased as I am at such a greeting, whatever is the matter?"

Merlin's face crumpled into a frown and he gripped a handful of his hair in each hand, exhaling as he paced back and forth to calm down and order his thoughts.

"We've learned what happened to the missing patrol. Morgana attacked them, killing them all but Sir Caridoc and Sir Mordred. Caridoc is with Gaius, but she took Mordred to the Dark Tower and Arthur is determined to rescue him."

"But it must surely be a trap," Mithian said worriedly.

"That's what I tried to tell Arthur, but he's determined to go."

"Which means that you must follow," Mithian said knowingly. Merlin nodded wordlessly and Mithian flung her arms around her husband, crushing him to her and claiming his lips once more, allowing their passion to overtake them.

* * *

"When do you leave?" Mithian asked some time later. The setting sun filtered hazily through their half-drawn curtains.

"At dawn."

"Then we have tonight," Mithian said, her eyes glistening as she visibly strengthened. Merlin smiled at her firm resolve.

"Yes, we do. Though I do need to leave the city as soon as the sun is fully set in order to call for Kilgharrah," Merlin explained.

"Take me with you," Mithian immediately demanded. Merlin looked at her for a moment then nodded.

"Dress in something inconspicuous and grab a cloak," Merlin answered, moving to find his own appropriate clothing. "Hopefully he won't scold me for too long before he lets me talk."

* * *

"It's rather exhilarating being out here, skulking around in the dark," Mithian said impishly as she and Merlin wove their way through the forest just after dusk.

"I've stopped noticing," Merlin laughed. "I suppose I skulk around in the dark too much."

Mithian snorted indecorously and clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.

"We're almost there," Merlin assured her.

"Do you suppose he'll actually _scold _you?" Mithian wondered aloud, smiling at her husband's resultant grimace.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Merlin answered ruefully. Then the two of them broke through the trees into the wide circular clearing, the white citadel barely visible over the treetops.

"Here goes," Merlin said, then without hesitation, threw back his head and called for his kin. Mithian was stunned silent for a few moments after Merlin finished.

"Is it unusual that I found that rather attractive?" Mithian asked in an awed daze, causing Merlin's face to redden.

"I've never done it in front of a woman, so I couldn't tell you," Merlin chuckled.

"I suppose that's a good thing, then. All of Camelot's maidservants would be utterly besotted," Mithian teased, though Merlin shook his head.

"I think it's just _you_," Merlin replied.

"Oh, I have it on good authority that there's a certain member of the kitchen serving staff that has rather taken a shine to you. If she saw what I just saw, I might have had to take her aside and explain a few things."

Merlin's mouth dropped open. "I can't believe that Gwen told you about Elfa."

"Merlin, love, she didn't have to. She was serving wine at our wedding feast. One would have to be blind to miss the way Elfa lusted after you."

"I'd best be blind then," Merlin answered. "I can't believe you remember who was serving wine that night."

"You don't?" Mithian asked with a smirk.

"No, not at all. I think there was _something _I remember from that night. If I recall correctly, it was pretty incredible. Perhaps you could help freshen my memory?"

Mithian smiled at the warlock, pleased to see his eyes sparkling in the sparse moonlight. Merlin leaned in and Mithian gladly rose up to meet him as their lips joined in a tender kiss. Distracted as they were, neither of them noticed the dragon gliding silently over the trees until he landed heavily in the clearing.

"I'm guessing you have something to tell me, young warlock."

Merlin broke away from Mithian and smiled sheepishly at the dragon. Mithian's eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open at the sheer immensity of the beast before her. She had heard tales of the dragons as a child as well as the story of the Once and Future King. But that handful of bedtime stories could never have prepared her to meet such a magnificent creature.

"Kilgharrah, brother, this is Mithian, Princess of Nemeth."

"That is not all she is," Kilgharrah said, raising a draconic eyebrow in Merlin's direction. "She is your mate."

"Don't be crude, Kilgharrah. She is my wife!" Merlin argued.

"Husband and wife are words that mean nothing to a dragon, young warlock. We have mates, for that is what they are to us. We do not feel as humans do."

"So I've noticed," Merlin responded dryly.

"What is it you called me for, Merlin?" Kilgharrah asked, his tone doing little to hide his impatience.

"That's it? That is all you are going to say?! You're not going to give me a lecture on distractions and destiny and how I'm ignoring it or some such?"

"Have you forsaken Arthur or your role in Albion?"

"No."

"Then have you made an alliance with the witch?"

"You know I would never!"

"Peace young warlock," Kilgharrah rumbled.

"I will serve Arthur and Albion till I can no longer draw breath."

"Then why did you suppose that I would _lecture_ you, as you say?"

"I've been preparing myself for your disapproval," Merlin said, his brow furrowing in frustration.

"Why should I disapprove, when a dragonlord will one day be born from her womb?" Kilgharrah asked, turning to look at Mithian again. The princess stood taller under Kilgharrah's scrutiny and refused to be cowed by the dragon's critical gaze. She wasn't prepared for the deep chuckle that erupted from the dragon.

"You have spirit, Mithian of Nemeth. You will need it."

"What does that mean?" Merlin asked. "What have you seen?"

"I know that the witch has the druid boy at the Dark Tower, and even now tightens her control over him."

"But what exactly is the Dark Tower?"

"It is said that it is a place of doom; a place where none who tread shall return. Others believe it is a figment of the mind, some say it is a curse upon the land in which it stands. You must tread cautiously, young warlock. The witch seeks Emrys now more than ever."

Kilgharrah didn't say another word, but opened his wings and leapt into the air.

"That was... Unusual," Mithian murmured after a minute.

"That is Kilgharrah for you; frequently cryptic yet frighteningly blunt and somewhat annoying. At least he didn't scold me," Merlin said, then he looked to Mithian with a grin. "I think he likes you."

"He likes my _womb_, you mean."

Merlin laughed, taking her by the hand and pulling her towards the city.

"Let's go home. Dawn will come all too quickly."

* * *

Merlin found himself wide awake an hour or two before sunrise. Mithian's arm lay across his waist, holding him to her as she pressed herself into his side. The warlock wasn't eager to move. Moving meant getting out of bed and leaving his wife behind as he followed Arthur on a fool's quest to rescue the man destined to kill the king.

A heavy feeling of dread sat in Merlin's gut as he turned to take in Mithian's face. Her brows were furrowed and a slight frown puckered her lips, as though Merlin's dread was a tangible thing, reaching out and touching Mithian, even in her sleep. Merlin closed his eyes and leaned in to press a kiss upon her forehead, his lips lingering there as he took in her scent. As he pulled back, Mithian blinked her eyes open and met Merlin's troubled gaze.

"You're awake early this morning," Mithian whispered, unwilling to break the moment by speaking too loudly.

"I can't sleep any more," Merlin admitted softly.

"You're not tired?"

"No. I cannot get over the feeling that we shouldn't be going after Mordred."

"Because of what the dragon said?" Mithian asked.

"There is that, but I have also seen a vision granted to me by the Lochru. I _saw _Mordred running Arthur through. The anger and bitterness on Mordred's face contrasted with the utter betrayal and _heartbreak_ on Arthur's has haunted me ever since that day."

"You told me that Gaius has said many times that the future is not set in stone," Mithian said, trying to soothe him.

"I know. But I have glimpsed the future before, in the Crystal of Neahtid and in the Crystal Cave itself. In both instances, the things that I saw came to pass in spite of, or _because _of, the things I did to try and alter it."

"Perhaps that is why you shouldn't fight Arthur on it now. Maybe rescuing Mordred now will prevent him from becoming the bitter man that the Lochru showed you."

"Maybe," Merlin conceded. Mithian propped herself up on her elbow to look into Merlin's eyes.

"Kilgharrah said to be cautious, yes, but do not let Morgana's hatred infect you. Your kindness and compassion are what I love about you."

Merlin smiled at Mithian, reaching up to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "It's your wisdom and strength that I love about you."

When Mithian leaned over Merlin to kiss him passionately, he did not object, but returned the favor. It was at least an hour before he really needed to get up, anyways.

* * *

When Merlin and Mithian entered the courtyard later, Arthur and the knights were in the process of drawing lots. Merlin raised an eyebrow questioningly at his wife, but she merely shrugged and moved to join Gwen on the steps.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, causing the five of them to spin around guiltily.

"Drawing lots," Gwaine answered, smiling rakishly.

"Yes, I can see that," Merlin chuckled. "Why?"

"Because _you _are late," Arthur groused, as though the reason was self-evident.

"By less than ten minutes, what has _that _got to do with drawing lots?!"

"You see, Merlin, you are a newlywed," Leon explained, raising his eyebrows and looking at Merlin knowingly.

"Yes, I am aware. I do in fact remember getting married just a few days ago, strangely enough."

"No, no you don't get it," Gwaine chuckled. "You are a _newlywed."_

"Yes. I know. Aren't you all full of answers this morning?" Merlin chuckled sarcastically. "Once again, what has that got to do with drawing lots?"

"Someone had to go knock on your door," Percival volunteered. Merlin raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"You are a newlywed," Elyan repeated, nodding his head encouragingly as the knights turned their heads as one to look at the Queen and Princess conversing together. Merlin followed their gaze to his wife and his eyes widened, suddenly comprehending why they were reluctant to knock on his door.

"You're all incorrigible," Merlin muttered, moving to put his things onto his horse.

"Then you were late for some other reason? Couldn't find your boots, I suppose?" Gwaine asked with false innocence. Merlin said nothing but narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. The knight grinned smugly at the warlock, whose red face gave him away. Leon, Percival and Elyan chortled, though Arthur simply looked at his former manservant with an appraising, yet doubtful look on his face. Merlin raised his chin and willed the pink tinge from his cheeks, looking Arthur in the eyes and raising his eyebrow as though to say, _Well? What of it?_

"And you have to ask why we're drawing lots," Gwaine chuckled.

"You're like our kid brother, Merlin," Percival said with a grin.

"As much as we tease and grant such excellent advice, there are just some things we don't want to know," Elyan continued, looking between Arthur and Gwen with a grimace. The king merely raised his eyebrow, causing Elyan to smile innocently at his brother-in-law.

"Come on, then. We have another brother who needs our help," Arthur said solemnly, dampening the light mood. Guinevere and Mithian came forward; the Queen tied a small strip of fabric, taken from the hem of her favorite gown, onto Arthur's arm and looked him in the eye.

"Come back to me," she said firmly, then kissed her husband passionately, hugging him tightly for a long moment. Mithian did the same with Merlin, pulling one of the ribbons from her hair and tying it around Merlin's thin wrist.

"Keep safe, you and all," Mithian whispered into Merlin's ear, squeezing his shoulders one last time before granting him a farewell kiss.

Without further delay, the men swung up into their saddles, turning their horses toward the gates.

"Merlin?" Gwen called, causing the warlock to wheel his horse back around.

"Keep him safe. Don't let him do anything rash," Gwen asked, her anxiety clear in her eyes.

"I'm not sure what gives you the impression that he'll listen to a word I say, but I'll do my very best, Gwen," Merlin promised.

"That's all I ask," Gwen said, smiling with false cheer.

"And make sure that _you _don't do anything rash," Mithian added, looking at Merlin knowingly. She had heard too many of Merlin's stories to believe that he wouldn't throw himself in front of Arthur if they were threatened. Merlin nodded, but smiled sadly, acknowledging Mithian's concerns as valid.

"I will do my best in that as well," Merlin said, smiling more genuinely at her until Arthur's shout broke the silence.

"Merlin! You've had your farewell, now move before I find you a dress to match your girlishness!"

Merlin looked at Mithian and Gwen with a rueful expression and a weary sigh, giving the two women one last nod before hurrying after his King.

* * *

They rode hard through the morning, stopping only twice in order to water the horses. Arthur was determined to make it to the village by nightfall. It seemed that they would do just that until they came to a stop at the mouth of a ravine that had been blocked by a rockslide.

"I know of a place just south of here where the river narrows. We can easily cross it there," Gwaine said, pointing to a place on their map.

"You have taken this route before?" Arthur asked.

"It's been a few years, but I have," he answered.

"Then you'll lead the way," Arthur ordered, turning them all towards their new path and letting Gwaine take the lead.

As they drew closer to the river, Merlin began to feel a familiar prickle. He sat up straighter in the saddle, looking all around him as he stretched out with his mind. Just ahead of them, there was a large concentration of magic. The sensation of it sent a rush of warmth through his chest as his magic reacted to the external source. For a moment, the warlock reveled in the feeling, though as he concentrated on it, he became aware of a foreign tinge of darkness. Urging his horse a bit faster, Merlin pulled up beside Arthur at the front of the group.

"There's something ahead of us, Arthur," Merlin said, somewhat uneasily.

"Are you being superstitious again, Merlin? Your little funny feelings?" Arthur asked, tempted to roll his eyes, but in the back of his mind, he knew that his advisor was probably right, as usual. That particular _something_ about Merlin came once more to the forefront of Arthur's thoughts.

"Is it superstition when I always turn out to be right?" Merlin asked. Arthur was mildly irritated that the manservant had voiced the very same thoughts in the king's own mind.

"You jump at every falling leaf and snap of a twig and insist that every last quest will be the end of me. Yet as I said before, I'm still here and I've still got all my important bits," Arthur teased, trying to downplay his own anxiety at Merlin's warning.

"Yes, well, usually every cracking twig is followed soon after by a raging horde of bandits."

"There were only three that last time," Arthur argued. "That's hardly a raging horde. Besides that, they all three got tripped up by the roots underfoot, so it was hardly a difficult task to subdue them."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Yes, we were very _fortunate_ to be in an area that was so very... _rooty_," Merlin said snarkily, scowling at Arthur's unrepentant smirk. The warlock couldn't help but think that in truth, Arthur was fortunate to have had a manservant stupid enough to use forbidden magic in front of him. Merlin was simply fortunate the king was either oblivious to the obvious or firmly in denial. Up ahead, Gwaine stopped in the middle of the trail before Arthur could retort.

"Arthur?" the knight called back, turning in his saddle to look significantly at his king. As one, everyone dismounted their horses and walked forward cautiously, drawing their swords as they moved. Coming to a halt beside Gwaine, they all stared, utterly stunned at the sight in front of them.

There was a mighty oak tree on the bank of the river, its bark heavily torn and charred on one side. Propped against the tree was a fiery-haired woman, her bare feet extended into the water that lapped near the roots of the tree. Instead of clothing, she was covered in leaves, moss and tree bark. She also had wounds on her side that mirrored those on the tree.

"A dryad," Merlin whispered, his tone awestruck. He knew instinctively from the magical aura that surrounded her that the dryad would do them no harm. He looked to his companions, seeing their drawn weapons, and reassured them, "You won't need your swords."

The dryad slowly turned her head, raising fatigued eyes to meet his gaze. After a second of unblinking study, she surprised the warlock by whispering, "_Emrys," _into his mind. Merlin had never met a dryad before, but when she touched his mind, he once again felt a curiously familiar tingle of magical energy run up and down his spine. Fighting down an instinctual shiver, Merlin reached out with his own senses. It was then that he recognised the power and saw the glimmering of the Vilia that undulated and flowed over the dryad's legs. Their familiar, friendly energy was masking and healing the damage inflicted by the tinge of dark magic that had alarmed him earlier.

"She's been badly injured by dark magic," Merlin said, instinctively moving towards her to help.

"Merlin!" Arthur protested, causing Merlin to turn, a questioning look on his face.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"What do you mean, _what_?! What do _you_ think you're _doing_?"

"She means us no harm," Merlin insisted.

"And you know that from one look? Or is this something from another of Gaius' books?!" Arthur hissed. Merlin pursed his lips.

"Dryads and Vilia are harmless spirits of nature."

"Vilia?! What is a Vilia?" Leon asked in confusion, looking around as though he had missed someone standing on the path.

"The water spirits," Merlin answered, gesturing to the glowing sprites that were healing the dryad. Arthur's expression reached a new level of incredulity. Merlin looked around at the knights and the king, unsure of their reaction to the situation.

"Do not be foolish, Merlin. You cannot know that she or these other creatures mean no harm just by the word of a dusty tome in Gaius collection," Arthur argued, though he had a growing suspicion that Merlin _hadn't _read these things in a book. The king's instincts told him that there was something else going on here and that it wasn't something new. Merlin's ever-present funny feelings seemed to be all the newly appointed advisor needed in situations such as these.

"She's as harmless as a unicorn," Merlin replied, reminding the king of another time when the gangly young man had shown uncanny wisdom and knowledge of something so blatantly magical in nature. Knowledge that someone born after the purge should not possess.

"Because our experience with the unicorn was so very positive," Arthur tossed back. He was fully aware of the innocence of the unicorn, but he suddenly had an irrepressible urge to provoke the former manservant into giving more away. However, Merlin merely raised his eyebrow at the king and gave him such a stern look that Arthur gave up on the possibility.

"That wasn't the unicorn's doing and you know it," Merlin murmured softly so that only Arthur could hear.

"That still doesn't prove these creatures mean us no harm," Arthur countered, speaking loud enough to include the others.

"No, but it _was _the Vilia that healed me from the Dorocha's touch," Merlin admitted, much to everyone's surprise. No one had really questioned how the servant had been healed then and Merlin had never volunteered the information. Gwaine furrowed his brow at the thought, but put it down to everyone's relief at the time that Merlin was still alive. But he and Arthur were both now wondering what other gaps there were in that particular tale, not to mention all the other inexplicable victories they had achieved. Arthur was astounded at the sheer number of them that suddenly tallied in his mind, and Merlin had been at the center of them all.

"The Vilia, their _magic_, is what healed you?" Arthur asked, not sure how an undulating light could do anything of the sort. Merlin nodded though, seemingly unconcerned about the Vilia's lack of substantial bodies.

"They are peaceful and she needs help," Merlin insisted, heading to his horse for his healer's bag without waiting any longer for Arthur's permission.

"How do you know for sure that they won't harm us?" Elyan asked, not a little nervous. His previous experience with magical spirits hadn't exactly been pleasant. Merlin stopped, turning once more to his friends.

"Can none of you feel it?" he asked, his confusion evident.

"Feel _what_, exactly?" Arthur asked in frustration.

"The peace and tranquility here; there is warmth and acceptance, a protective aura. Can you not feel the _energy _that is saturating the very _air_? It is though _every little thing_ here is _alive_ and a part of a much larger whole. Everything living and striving for a common purpose, yet still existing in their own unique brilliance..."

Merlin trailed off at the flummoxed look on Arthur's face. Then he looked around to the others; they were all in a state of surprise. Though Gwaine was looking at Merlin shrewdly.

"That was... _very _insightful," the knight drawled, looking between Merlin, Arthur and the dryad before looking once more at the warlock. Merlin's heart began to beat faster at the dawning recognition in Gwaine's eyes.

"Do what you need to," Arthur allowed, his throat dry and his voice scratchy. Merlin nodded and hurried to grab his bag before moving back to the dryad and her tree. Once again, it seemed that _something _about Merlin that Arthur had never quite been able to put a finger on was thrust back into his face.

Over the years, the king had dismissed his curiosities and put that indefinable quality of his manservant down to the advisor's innate quirkiness. But what he had just seen could not be ascribed solely to oddities of character; Arthur could only describe Merlin's explanation of the dryad as... _otherworldly_. Merlin had never spoken quite like that before. Not without some long-winded and far-fetched tale supposedly told to him by Gaius about swords and stones and knowing that Arthur was the true king of Camelot.

It was absolutely clear to Arthur now that what Merlin had just explained did _not _come from Gaius nor from any book, but rather from within. More than once over the years he had known Merlin, the king had felt as though _he _were the lesser man, usually when Merlin spouted off something incredibly wise. It was something that had left Arthur feeling incredibly unsettled when Merlin had been rewarded with the position as the prince's manservant. He was ashamed now to realize that it had insulted his sense of self-importance that an ill-mannered peasant could make Arthur feel lesser without really even trying. Arthur's frequent angry outbursts and antagonistic behaviour had been his paltry attempts to return the balance of power in his favor.

It had never worked, though. Looking back on Merlin's long history of impossible survival, unusual knowledge, funny feelings and unbelievable luck, magic seemed more and more likely. Arthur thought that surely he would have known or at least _suspected_, if his closest friend of nearly a decade was a sorcerer. Yet a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Merlin whispered, _Haven't you always suspected at least something?_

From the first day they had met, that certain _something_ about Merlin had always seemed to sit in the back of his mind, though it had been coming to the forefront rather frequently of late. Was it _possible _that _Merlin _had _magic_? It would certainly explain some of the quirky man's idiosyncrasies and convoluted stories.

Could he accept that? The king's attitude on magic had changed so much over the years. Arthur could recall a time when he thought that perhaps magic wasn't all bad. He had argued with Uther on that very subject more than once, and had even turned to sorcery to try and heal his father. Gaius had told him about how the old sorcerer had _tried _to heal Uther, but _couldn't _have done anything. Did that failure necessarily make magic bad? Was Gaius a bad person when one of his patients died? Arthur nearly scoffed aloud at the thought. So why had he thought that of the old sorcerer?

It was only after Uther's death that he'd hardened his stance on magic and truly followed his father's footsteps in regards to sorcery. But had he? The Horn of Cathbhadh had been powerful magic and Arthur had willingly used it for his own purposes. One could argue that the horn's magic had been quite troublesome in the end, though yet another argument could be made that it was Arthur's own inexperience and ignorance with magic that had made the ordeal so very troublesome.

It was time, Arthur knew, for him to decide where he was going to stand on the matter, one way or the other. He could not continue to waver where magic was involved, for his own sake as well as the kingdom's. How exactly was it that he wanted to rule Camelot? His father had been utterly obsessed with cleansing magic from the land, though Arthur couldn't in good conscience take such a hard stance on those with magic. His father would have balked at allowing peace with the druids, but hadn't Arthur just recently told the specter of his father that it was now _Arthur's _time? _Arthur's _turn to rule Camelot the way he saw fit?

He had blown the horn with the full knowledge that it would send his father back to the spirit realm, solidifying his decision then and there to rule the way he saw fit, entirely free from his father's shadow. Arthur closed his eyes as he remembered the last experience he'd had with his father. Uther's specter had tried to kill Guinevere, and Merlin as well, for that matter.

That thought made Arthur pause. His father had voiced his displeasure with Arthur's choice of wife, hence the attempt on her life. Uther had mentioned the Round Table with distaste, but at no time did his father voice his displeasure with Arthur's association with the then-manservant, until Arthur was just about to blow the horn; then his father's spirit had tried to tell him something.

"_Merlin has-"_

Arthur had pushed it aside as soon as the ghost had disappeared. But now those words rang through the king's head. Had Uther been about to confirm what Arthur was now almost sure of? There was little else besides magic that made any sense. Arthur mulled over the question and its likely answer as he stepped forward cautiously, the knights quickly following.

The king stopped a short distance from where his advisor was crouched over the dryad; near enough to see more clearly what Merlin was doing, but not close enough to hear his murmured conversation with the magical woman. Arthur was almost overwhelmingly curious to know what they were speaking about, but something held him back. Perhaps it was reluctance to confirm what the king suspected, or perhaps some previously unknown respect for what amounted to the former manservant's greatest secret.

At one point, Merlin put his hand on the woman's shoulder and the tree spirit... woman... creature... whatever she was, seemed to suddenly sit a little taller, her face less pained. Merlin's back was turned to them, thus Arthur couldn't see if there had been any glint of gold within Merlin's eyes. Though he found himself disappointed, Arthur wasn't sure yet if he hoped to see proof that his suspicions were true or not. The urge to bury his thoughts and questions flared in the king's mind. He had done so many times over the years, and this time was no different. Simply Merlin being his strange self. But Arthur shook his head immediately at the thought. He could not overlook what was staring him in the face any longer.

* * *

Merlin could feel their eyes on him as he pulled some supplies out of his bag. He knew that he'd have to be cautious; anything overly visible would certainly give more away than his over-exuberant explanation had. Inwardly he cursed himself for becoming lost in the sensations that he felt all around him in the presence of the nature spirits. He had said and implied a _lot _more than he had intended. Certainly more than he ever had on such an obviously magical topic.

"Emrys_," _the dryad whispered aloud, causing Merlin to pause his anxiously busy hands and look up into her eyes. "_Thank you," _echoed through his mind, the dryad's voice weak, but grateful.

"I'm Merlin," he said aloud in way of answer, nodding subtly at her to show he'd heard her. "What do you call yourself?"

"I am Lowri," she whispered, grimacing in pain.

"How did this happen?" Merlin asked worriedly, hoping that his suspicions were off target.

"_Morgana... She's leading a group of rogues. They were damaging the forest to catch the attention of a patrol."_

Merlin nodded, rifling absentmindedly through his supplies.

"How can I help you, Lowri?" he murmured at last, at a loss as to how to treat a dryad.

"_I can heal myself, but it takes a great deal of time, just as with the trees. Those oils you have in your hand would help, but if you could spare me some energy, as the Vilia are doing, I could heal faster."_

Merlin nodded again, understanding. He doused a linen bandage in the plant oils and pressed it over the deepest of her wounds. Then Merlin put a hand on her shoulder and concentrated, gifting the tree spirit with a burst of magic, similar to how he had with Mithian not long ago. Yet Merlin could not help but wonder at how different the two experiences were. He had felt somewhat connected to Mithian after giving energy to her, but Merlin felt no such connection with the dryad, though the tree spirit nearly gasped at the sudden jolt of energy. The warlock grinned at the dryad's grateful smile, and mentally tucked the differences between the two experiences away to think more on later.

"_The rumors of your greatness have not been exaggerated."_

Merlin scoffed at the thought, not looking up from his task.

"_Neither have the rumors of your modesty. You must be careful, Emrys. Morgana has the young man at the Dark Tower. If he survives, he will not be the same."_

"_What do you mean?" _Merlin addressed her mentally, not wanting to be overheard. "_What is it that Morgana is doing to Mordred? Why did she take him to the Tower?"_

"_She's been hunting for Mandrakes in the last few weeks. I fear that she has put Mordred under The Teine Diaga."_

Merlin narrowed his eyes, unfamiliar with what the Teine Diaga was.

"_I am sorry. I forget how very young you still are," _the dryad explained, seeing his confusion. _"It is an ancient and twisted ritual fashioned by the darkest of the High Priestesses. Only the most powerful of healing waters can hope to break it."_

"Are you finished, Merlin?" Arthur called. "We need to push onwards if we're to reach the village by nightfall."

"Yes," Merlin said, smiling one last time at Lowri, who was now healing rapidly. Her grateful nod was the last she communicated; then she sank down right into her tree as though it were the same consistency as honey.

"That was _entirely_ bizarre," Gwaine said, shaking his head as he came to stand behind the still crouching Merlin. "And here I'd thought I'd seen just about everything."

Merlin stiffened at the knight's words, hastily standing and turning to meet Gwaine's amused and knowing eyes, realizing that the knight had meant far more than seeing the dryad. Merlin smiled weakly, unsure of what to think. He knew that Gwaine would give him the benefit of the doubt, but Merlin had seen how angry Gwaine had been at Dragoon. Though Gwaine hadn't seemed overly hostile with Grettir, at least he hadn't until the little man had turned Gwaine's sword into a bunch of flowers. How accepting or disapproving of magic Gwaine was, Merlin wasn't entirely sure.

"Let's move out," Arthur ordered, watching as Merlin moved quietly back to his horse. To Arthur, it seemed that Merlin was thinking deeply about something, though he couldn't fathom what was on the dark-haired man's mind. Arthur himself was contemplating perhaps the most significant change in his kingship, more even than knighting commoners and marrying the daughter of a blacksmith. Turning away before his advisor noticed the king's scrutiny, Arthur vowed to pay a little closer attention to Merlin in the future.

* * *

Merlin was entirely grateful when the little village came into view just as the sun dipped below the western horizon. It had been a long afternoon of riding. He had gradually moved from the front to the back of the group over the course of their journey. The warlock had felt everyone's eyes on him at some point or another. Arthur's and Gwaine's most of all. It had been a bit unsettling to Merlin, who was used to being chronically overlooked.

When the smoke from the village fires could be seen, two young boys came to meet them on the road. They scampered ahead of them, eager to share the news that the king himself was come with his best knights. The leaders of the village gathered in the town center to greet their sovereign. Merlin was pleased to see how affable and unassuming Arthur was as he greeted them and thanked them for their hospitality. It never ceased to amaze the warlock how much Arthur had changed since their first meeting.

"Thank you for hosting our party for the night," Arthur said, clasping forearms with the village elders.

"It is our honor, My Lord," a greying man answered. "We would love to have you feast with us on our best offerings."

Despite Arthur's protests, a humble feast was prepared for supper. A freshly hunted deer was roasted over red hot coals, and Merlin even helped supplement the meal with some root tubers he'd foraged earlier. Arthur sat by the fire, watching with a touch of envy at how readily Merlin interacted with either peasant farmers, nobles or royalty.

Arthur knew of no other peasant who could rise above his fatherless state, fight alongside and advise a king, marry a princess and comfortably interact with and assist a dryad. Merlin was an enigma; Arthur had known that for a very long time. Though ever since Rodor had made his offer to Merlin, it seemed like Merlin's uncommon nature was more obvious now, like Arthur's eyes had been opened, a veil removed.

"What has you so sour-faced?"

Arthur turned to his most irreverent knight and raised an eyebrow.

"You look like you've sat in a briar patch," Gwaine chuckled.

"Does Merlin seem different to you?"

"You mean because he's got himself a wife now?"

Arthur thought for a second, wondering if that might be the reason for his sudden shift in perception.

"No, I don't think that's it," Arthur mused, and the jovial expression on Gwaine's face mellowed.

"I think this is something best asked of Merlin," Gwaine said solemnly.

"You see it, though, don't you?" Arthur asked.

"See what?" Gwaine drawled innocently. "All I see is a conversation that _doesn't_ involve me."

Arthur sighed, looking at his advisor once more. Merlin was speaking to a bright-eyed group of children, who seemed utterly entranced by what he was saying. After a moment, a chorus of nods and several pleas had Merlin looking around him thoughtfully. His eyes lit upon a basket of small apples and Merlin instantly broke out in a grin. Grabbing four of the fruits, Merlin showed them all to the children, then began tossing them in the air. Within seconds, Merlin was juggling all four apples and Arthur was nearly as surprised the second time as he was the first.

"See, now how does he do that?!" Arthur asked Gwaine exasperatedly. "He can't catch _anything_, do you know how many things I've thrown at him over the years?!"

Gwaine just raised an eyebrow at Arthur's admission.

"It was never very hard," Arthur said petulantly. Gwaine laughed so hard that Merlin dropped two of the apples when he looked towards them to find out why. Arthur just pointed to Gwaine and shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head and motioning that Gwaine was perhaps mentally unsound. Merlin looked between the two of them dubiously and Gwaine just laughed harder. Arthur rolled his eyes at the spectacle that Gwaine was creating.

A moment later, Merlin joined the two of them at the fire, having handed his juggling apples off to the exuberant children.

"What was it that had you in such a state?" the warlock asked, smiling at the still grinning knight.

"Arthur was just pondering some deep questions," Gwaine explained, though he soon stood. "If you'll excuse me, I believe that pretty lass over there needs a bit of help with that."

Merlin chuckled as he watched Gwaine move to take a water bucket from a young woman, remembering how he and Mithian had argued playfully over two buckets of water.

"He has no shame," Arthur said, pulling Merlin's attention back. Merlin nodded in agreement and moved to take Gwaine's space on the log beside the fire.

"So, what was he laughing about?" Merlin asked, looking at Arthur with a knowing grin.

"Nothing," Arthur denied innocently.

"Ahh," Merlin chuckled. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Have you always been able to sense things like you did with that dryad today?" Arthur asked as nonchalantly as possible. He had come to the decision to try and pull some answers from Merlin; over the course of the day, his suspicions had solidified. He was certain that the former manservant possessed magic of some sort. It had been all he could think about throughout the afternoon, and he intended to get some kind of confirmation from Merlin before the night was through. His advisor just needed to cooperate.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, trying to play innocent, even though his heart was suddenly in his throat.

"I mean, you felt that dryad and the vilia at least a quarter mile down the trail. All your little funny feelings and superstitions; you've always felt them, as long as I've known you. Has it been that way your whole life? Or is this funny feeling something you've only developed since you knew me?"

Merlin eyed Arthur blankly for a moment, contemplating just how to answer the king's question. Arthur didn't _sound_ angry or upset in any way, but what he was asking about bordered dangerously on the realm of magic, and whether or not Merlin had it. The warlock took a deep, calming breath, never breaking eye contact with his king.

"I suppose so. I've always had very good instincts, at least that's what my mother tells me," Merlin answered finally, managing to just skirt neatly around the confirmation Arthur wanted.

"It's how you knew that Will was a good person, even though he had magic?" Arthur asked, avoiding the question he really wanted to ask. The king found himself oddly reluctant to ask Merlin point-blank if he dabbled in sorcery. Arthur thought back over the numerous close calls and far-fetched tales and nearly rolled his eyes at himself. It was perhaps fair to say Merlin _more _than dabbled.

It left Arthur feeling rather confused and conflicted; he would have thought that suspecting Merlin of magic would have sent him into a rage. The young monarch had been betrayed by so many who were close to him that he never would have expected how he now felt. Though Arthur wondered if he could really even call it a betrayal. If it was true that Merlin had magic, which was more likely than not, then the manservant would have been stupid to admit to it in Camelot. Hadn't Arthur himself convinced his father that Merlin was a lovesick fool when the idiot had admitted to healing Tom in front of the whole council in order to save Guinevere?

Recalling that particular incident made Arthur want to hit himself in the forehead. Here he was, trying to decide if Merlin had magic when the man himself had admitted it nearly a decade before.

"What _do _you think of magic, Merlin?" Arthur asked, surprising even himself with the question. "Will was a sorcerer, yet he was your closest friend in Ealdor. Surely you don't think poorly of magic then?" The king raised his eyebrow at the thin man sitting across from him, refusing to look away, as though daring Merlin to concoct some excuse at this juncture.

Merlin's eyes went wider than the king had ever seen them and his mouth dropped open. Distantly, Arthur noted that his First Advisor suddenly resembled a freshly caught fish.

"Me?!" Merlin finally sputtered, a panicked look on his face. "Magic? What _I _think?"

If it weren't such a serious subject, Arthur might have taken pleasure in Merlin's complete discombobulation. The man sitting before the king didn't resemble the oft clumsy, sometimes eloquent, and frequently wise advisor that he knew Merlin to be.

"Yes. Magic. What are your personal thoughts on the matter?"

"You want _my _thoughts? On _magic_? Why?" Merlin asked. Arthur pretended not to notice the touch of panic that colored Merlin's tone.

"Yes, Merlin. You're my First Advisor, that's the idea, you know. I've been thinking about it lately."

"You've been thinking about it lately?!" Merlin asked incredulously. Again, Arthur ignored the growing tension in Merlin's voice.

"Yes, _Mer_lin. I am the king, after all. I have a kingdom to care for and its peoples to consider. What if my father was wrong?"

"Wrong?" Merlin whispered. Arthur nodded, encouraged by the hint of hope in Merlin's expression that suddenly overshadowed the panic.

"He was certainly wrong about the druids. I can see how he had a point with Morgause and I suppose now with Morgana, but what was it that drove them to those extremes? A cornered boar will always charge," Arthur said shrewdly. Merlin nodded, his face sobering further as he listened to his king, his _friend_. Arthur looked down at his feet and picked up a stick, occupying himself with drawing in the dirt to allow Merlin a modicum of privacy while the thin man composed himself.

"I do not believe that magic is all bad. I believe that it can be a force for good and that it can be a beautiful gift, if it is used for the right purposes," Merlin said hoarsely after a long moment of silence. His eyes glistened with unshed tears and Arthur had to wonder how long Merlin had wanted to say those words to him.

"Who is to decide then what are the _right _purposes? For surely Morgana believes her purposes to be justified and fully in the right. I would have to disagree with her, but I haven't got magic. Who am I to say what its purpose should be?"

Merlin sat, trying to control the conflicted elation that bubbled within his gut. This was the moment he had waited, fought and sacrificed so much for over the better part of his adult life. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Merlin looked Arthur boldly in the eye, determined to make this moment count.

"You... Are the Once and Future King," Merlin began slowly, unconsciously slipping into what Arthur thought of as Merlin's wise storyteller voice. "Foretold _centuries_ ago to unite _all_ of Albion and restore magic, heralding a golden era of peace and prosperity."

Arthur sat stunned for a full minute, having a hard time accepting that he could or would be worthy of such an important position.

"It seems an impossible goal." Arthur said, his face betraying his feeling of inadequacy. "How am I to accomplish any of that? Besides, being this 'Once and Future King' does nothing to help me make sense of magic."

Merlin seemed to glow as his face broke slowly into a relieved, yet secretive smile.

"_That_ is why it was also foretold that you wouldn't be alone in your destiny. That you would be supported, protected and _advised _by the warlock _Emrys_."

Arthur didn't miss the way Merlin emphasized the word _advised. _He may as well have admitted to being this warlock, this Emrys. Perhaps he just had, Arthur thought. The king watched as Merlin took a deep breath through his nose, as though he was bracing himself for something monumental.

Just as Merlin opened his mouth to confirm or deny what Arthur was thinking, the peaceful revelry of the village was shattered. Screams of terror immediately followed a fiery explosion, the villagers scrambling for their children and rushing to take cover.

Merlin and Arthur jumped to their feet, knowing without a doubt that the village was under the attack of sorcerers, and that it was because the king and his knights were there.

* * *

**Thanks for reviewing! Anybody else wish Arthur and Merlin's fireside conversation in The Disir had turned out a bit more like this? ;)**


	9. Truth Unveiled

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers:** **Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Ilovethestorys, I chuckled to myself when I read your review- the moment you felt was a bit OOC for Merlin was a moment that I plucked and tweaked from the episode The Disir! When Arthur asks Merlin how he knew The Disir's location was sacred, Merlin said, _"Everything here... is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf... ..every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself."_ Arthur incredulously replied, _"You feel all that?"_ and Merlin then asked, _"You don't?_ **

**Other than Gwen's asking Merlin, rather than a knight, to protect Arthur, it was one of the only parts of that episode that I liked. A moment that should have been a major DUH! Merlin has magic! moment for Arthur. But I just despised how that conversation ended. ;) **

**Just a warning, there is a bit of whump in this chapter, but it is fleeting, and again, was tweaked from the show.**

* * *

**Truth Unveiled**

The screams and shouts of the villagers echoed through the air as Merlin and Arthur ran towards the commotion. A shattered grain cart near the village entrance was burning, the smoldering wreckage strewn all across the village's main road. Arthur was grim-faced, determined to keep the damage to the village and its people to a minimum. His eyes reflexively scanned the perimeter, searching for weaknesses or strengths that could be used for either their detriment or their benefit.

Merlin's heart pounded as he followed Arthur, the both of them weaving through the fleeing women and children. The men of the village seemed reluctant to leave their hard-built homes and food stores. Several of them armed themselves with pitchforks and other harvesting tools, searching the darkness around them for the as-yet unseen threat.

"Get to the woods! Protect your families!" Arthur shouted as the thatched rooftops of the stone-walled huts in the village burst into flame all around them. "You will still have homes, I promise you! ON ME!" Arthur commanded as the last of the villagers disappeared into the surrounding woods. The king noted with satisfaction that his knights were there, swords in hand, before he even finished the words. More roofs set on fire, though the sorcerers casting the spells were staying just out of sight.

"You need not damage any more homes; these are innocent people you are hurting. It is me that you are here for. SHOW YOURSELVES!" Arthur screamed in anger. All around them, a rough-looking group of men moved silently from the shadows, eerily lit by the flickering flames of the now-engulfed roofs.

Merlin looked warily around at the rapidly encroaching band of sorcerers. Nearly all of them looked furious, the fires of rage lit within them; their desire for vengeance clear on their faces. Another rooftop catching fire behind them caused the king and his knights to duck reflexively, though the sorcerers kept coming. Arthur hurriedly took in the three-to-one odds and did the only thing he could in such a situation.

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" he yelled, which each of the knights returned with equal fervor, all five of them charging forward with a battle cry on their lips.

Merlin watched in alarm as Arthur and the knights were stopped in their charge and knocked to the ground by magic. Arthur was quickly back on his feet, engaging the leader of the band with his sword. Gwaine was next, rushing towards the next closest sorcerer. The others had lost some of their courage after seeing how quickly Arthur and Gwaine had rebounded, but they rallied at their leader's encouraging shout and began to press forward once more. Little more than a few seconds had passed when Merlin suddenly recalled Will's angry words.

"_If you used your magic, then no one else would have to die."_

Gritting his teeth in determination, Merlin made his decision at the same moment the ring of attackers closed around them. The warlock growled under his breath as he recognised the man fighting Arthur as the man who had once tried to twist Mordred into his own weapon with the Crystal of Neahtid.

Alvarr retreated a few paces in the face of Arthur's superior swordsmanship, then thrust a hand out to blast the king off of his feet again. The spell never reached Arthur, for at that moment, Merlin stepped in front of his king and joined the fight with a great sweep of his right arm. Alvarr was pushed backwards into his companions so forcefully that eight of them were caught in a tangled heap nearly fifteen feet away. Another sweep, this time with Merlin's left arm, felled another five. With widened eyes, Alvarr struggled to his feet and turned to Merlin, who braced his feet and held both arms in front of him warningly.

Merlin could feel the eyes of his friends on him as he stood his ground, the groans of the felled attackers echoing in the stunned silence. Leon's mouth fell open in astonishment as he stood tall behind his king. Percival froze in place where he stood with a hand poised to haul Elyan to his feet. Gwaine and Arthur traded a look, awed at the warlock's seemingly effortless feat of throwing thirteen men.

Arthur was somewhat ashamed of himself for the hurt that had tried to spark to life in his heart when Merlin had so obviously and undeniably used magic. And _powerful_ magic at that. The king concluded that his suspicions were quite accurate; the former manservant was definitely more than a dabbler.

As he watched Merlin's fierce, protective stance and saw the furious and begrudging respect from the other sorcerers as they slowly stood, Arthur's initial reaction melted away. He recalled his hours of contemplation and his conclusions from earlier and a great feeling of relief swelled within him. Fighting down his elation, Arthur took up a ready stance slightly behind and to the side of Merlin, eager to assist if need be.

"You're a traitor," Alvarr spat in Merlin's direction, holding his own hand at the ready as he began to slowly walk towards the warlock.

"I am nothing of the sort," Merlin denied, his voice strong, and not a little angry. "You have attacked _innocent _people this night, for what? Some petty revenge on a dead man? You are destroying this village for no purpose!" Merlin looked pointedly at the burning rooftops, his eyes flaring gold. The flames were instantly smothered without a word uttered from Merlin. Murmurs swept across the group of sorcerers.

"You would support a _Pendragon _with such power at your disposal?" Alvarr asked disgustedly.

"If you could give up this thirst for revenge and power, you would see that Arthur is nothing like Uther. You are doing magic users a great disservice by proving Uther's claims that sorcerers are dangerous and that magic corrupts," Merlin argued, his voice deepening in sorrow as he witnessed once again the destruction that vengeance wreaked upon good people.

"You know nothing of what I've been through," Alvarr growled, his voice trembling in fury. "And you would judge me, when I have been hunted and persecuted my whole life."

"You think I don't know your fear? That I know nothing of being persecuted or hunted or feared? You are mistaken."

"Empty words from a man who fights without fear beside a magic-hating king," Alvarr growled.

"My father had magic; he hid from Uther's persecutions, unknowingly leaving me fatherless. He was hunted and persecuted until he was _killed _by Uther's hatred, but none of that was _Arthur's_ fault."

"You are foolish to believe otherwise. He is just the same as his father," Alvarr spat, jabbing a finger in Arthur's direction. Merlin kept his ground, hands still raised, trying to keep his voice level.

"No, he's not," Merlin insisted. "Do you think he would have a _warlock _for an advisor if he was?" Merlin didn't think it was prudent to admit that Arthur hadn't known that he had appointed a warlock to be his advisor. But Merlin had seen enough of Arthur's reaction as they had talked at the fire to know that Arthur was not angry about the warlock's magic. His silence, perhaps, but not his magic.

"You're _nothing _to me but a _traitor_," Alvarr repeated coldly, lifting his hand a little higher. Merlin kept his right hand raised in Alvarr's direction, though he moved his left when he noticed a few of the other men beginning to stir anxiously.

For a moment, no one seemed eager to move; Arthur and the knights realizing that they were outmatched by the magic-wielding attackers, and those same attackers hesitant to test Merlin's capabilities further. One man to Merlin's right drew the warlock's attention when he slid a short knife from his belt and flung it at Arthur. Merlin stopped it with a flash of his eyes, sending the knife back to the thrower faster than it had originally been thrown. A few of the attackers turned and abandoned Alvarr when they saw their comrade fall, his own knife in his chest a split second after it had left his hand.

Alvarr sneered at the fleeing men. _He_ was unwilling to face Morgana's disappointment and rage if they should fail in this task. Concentrating for a moment, the rogue sorcerer conjured a sizeable fireball, throwing it at Merlin with a satisfied smirk. Alvarr's face paled, however, when Merlin reached out and absorbed the fiery orb in one hand.

"Stop this," Merlin said warningly, his face hardening.

Alvarr growled and conjured another fireball, sending this one at Arthur instead. Merlin's eyes flared gold as he flung a hand out, saying "_Onsæceþ_!"

The fireball froze against an invisible wall of energy, crackling and flaring until it rebounded with explosive force towards Alvarr. The last thought the former druid had was that he had seriously underestimated the power and control that the younger man possessed.

Chaos broke out as soon as Alvarr's body hit the ground. Most of the remaining rogues rushed forward, intending to overwhelm Merlin with sheer numbers. The warlock did not hesitate, throwing both hands forward and blasting all the rushing attackers off their feet. Merlin turned quickly to Arthur, opening his mouth to tell them to take cover, but Arthur's expression was suddenly panicked; the king raised his arm towards Merlin just as Gwaine cried out.

"MERLIN!"

Whirling around, Merlin was suddenly shocked by the piercing, agonizing pain that ripped through his right side. Gasping in shock, Merlin clutched at his lower ribs and realized that he had been shot with a crossbow bolt. Instinctively reaching a hand out in the direction of the bolt, Merlin just managed to freeze a second arrow and send it back at the shooter, dropping the man to writhe on the ground.

After a moment, Merlin's arm fell in sudden exhaustion. There was a tense silence as the warlock turned once more to look apologetically at Arthur. Merlin's head was spinning with dizzy pain, and he dimly recognised that he was going into shock. The warlock quickly looked over each of his friends' alarmed faces before he wavered and fell to his knees. He was dimly aware that Gwaine was rushing past him, sword at the ready and a cry of outrage on his lips.

Merlin swayed on his knees, trying to press ineffectually at the bolt lodged between his ribs before sitting heavily with his legs tucked beneath him. Just as he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, Merlin felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He was jolted back into awareness as the person sat on the ground and pulled him gently back into their chest. The warlock panted in shallow breaths as the bolt was jostled while the wound was inspected.

"Ahh!" he cried out as someone moved to pull the arrow out. "Don't, don't, don't," he murmured. He could feel the sweat beading on his clammy skin; Merlin was sure that if he could see himself, his face would be as pale as a ghost's.

"Merlin! We have to remove it, we need to treat you," a strained voice said over him. Merlin blinked blearily and realized that it was Arthur holding the warlock against him. Merlin slowly shook his head, grimacing as the motion pulled at his wound.

"Sire, I fear that only magic will save him," Leon said quietly, though Merlin had no memory of the loyal knight coming so close to him. Yet there he was, standing beside Arthur on Merlin's right side. Turning his head to the left, Merlin wondered for a second time how Percival and Elyan had gotten there.

"Heal yourself," Arthur commanded firmly, distracting Merlin from his mindless wanderings. Arthur's face belied the turmoil that he would not allow to taint his voice.

"Doesn' work tha' way," Merlin said, his voice raspy and weak as his words slurred slightly.

"Why not?!" Arthur argued. "What's the use of all this magic if you can't even heal yourself?! You just defeated more than a dozen men with barely a twitch of your finger and you can't heal a little arrow wound?!"

"_Little_?!" Merlin protested weakly.

"Please, Merlin. It's practically a flesh wound," Arthur teased, trying to lighten the situation. Merlin's eyes brightened as the king's taunt piqued his irritation.

"I'd like t' see _you_ try i' on f'r size, then. See how you like i'," Merlin slurred back. Gwaine was suddenly there, leaning over the injured warlock.

"The bowman's dead, as are the men Merlin threw back. The leader is, well..."

"Dead?" Arthur asked dryly. They had all seen the size of the fireball that Merlin had thrown at the man.

"Well, that wasn't the word I was going for," Gwaine chuckled, stopping at the guilty look on Merlin's face.

"You did what you had to," Arthur reassured Merlin, clasping him on the shoulder in support. Merlin smiled back in thanks, then gasped as Arthur used his distraction to rip the arrow out and press a hand over the copiously bleeding wound.

"Do something, now," the king urged, alarmed at the ashen look of his advisor's face.

"I can' heal myself any more th'n Gaius can trea' himself," Merlin explained breathlessly, bringing Arthur back to his original question.

"Then what can you do?" Arthur asked frustratedly.

"Ar-thur, I'm sorry," Merlin said, grimacing.

"Don't say that, you're not going to die," Arthur said in frustration.

"No, I know I'm no'. Mithian would kill me," Merlin joked, his voice strengthening as he took a slow, measured breath and wincing as he chuckled. "It's jus' tha' you might no' be very pleased with who I'm abou' t' summon, bu' I promise... t' explain later."

"_Summon_?! Merlin you're not making any sense, though why I'm surprised, I don't know," Arthur scoffed.

Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan gathered closer to lend a helping hand when the warlock tried ineffectively to sit up. It seemed to Merlin that they all felt the need to touch him, as though they were trying to decide if he were real. The dragonlord felt a little absurd, calling to Kilgharrah while propped up by his friends, but he was bleeding out too quickly to object. After a few quick, panting breaths to get his pain under control, Merlin let his head fall back.

_"O drakon!" _he called out, pausing to pant as a wave of pain wracked his body. _"E mala soi... ftengometh... tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo..."_

Merlin sagged backwards into Arthur once more, his energy spent.

"We should keep him warm," Leon said sensibly. Arthur nodded and the knights formed a human stretcher, lifting their warlock friend off of the king and carrying him to a place by the fire. Arthur followed and sat beside his advisor. Merlin's hand pressed weakly against his still bleeding wound as his eyes began to droop alarmingly. Arthur took Merlin's increasingly limp hand and held it tightly against the wound before taking a deep breath and searching his mind for something to try and keep Merlin awake.

"What can we do for you? What exactly was that supposed to do?" the king asked anxiously. Merlin shook his head, too tired to explain what he had done.

"I need... open space," Merlin muttered quietly, pressing his hand harder into his rapidly soaking side. Arthur looked to each of his men in turn, though the only thing they could offer was a shrug of their shoulders and a confused look.

"What do you-" Arthur began, though he was cut off when a dark shadow fell over the moon in the sky and an eerily familiar sound reverberated across the quiet night.

"What is that?" Elyan asked, looking upwards in alarm.

"_Dragon!_" Arthur exclaimed, jumping to his feet and scanning the sky anxiously even as Merlin groaned and called out in protest.

"He... is a... friend," Merlin panted, grasping at Arthur's ankle, trying hard not to lose consciousness.

"A _friend_?!" Leon said in startled alarm.

"Strange company you keep, Merlin," Gwaine commented dryly, his eyes locked onto the enormous beast presently circling overhead.

Before Merlin could utter a retort, Kilgharrah landed roughly in the field that bordered the village center, coming as close as he could to the central fire ring.

"What have you done to yourself _now_, young warlock?!" the dragon scolded. "Did I not _tell _you to be _cautious_?"

"Kilgharrah, _please_," Merlin groaned, pressing a hand ever tighter over the still bleeding wound.

"What is it you want me to do?" the dragon asked.

"Do you _really _need t' ask?!" Merlin replied exasperatedly. Kilgharrah merely raised his brow ridge and tucked his wings in tighter in response. Merlin sighed, dropping his head back in exhaustion as he clutched at his aching side and panted again.

"Damn dragon, nothin' 's ever simple with you, is it?" Merlin gasped. Arthur traded bewildered looks with his men. Merlin speaking with the dragon as though they were brothers was even more bizarre than realizing that Merlin was an incredibly powerful warlock.

"I need your help, old friend. Can you please heal me?" Merlin said somberly, finally lifting his head to meet the dragon's gaze. Kilgharrah bowed his head in submission and turned to address Arthur.

"You need to bring him closer to me," Kilgharrah ordered.

"You're supposed to be dead," Arthur said boldly, looking momentarily down at the pale warlock at his feet in his annoyance.

"Arthur, now really isn' the time," Merlin gasped, trying once again to get to his feet, and falling back with a groan when he couldn't.

"You're such an _idiot_ sometimes, Merlin," Arthur muttered, looking significantly at the knights, all of them nodding and resuming their places to lift Merlin gently into the cradle of their arms. Slowly, warily, Arthur led the way towards the dragon, pausing about ten feet away from the great beast.

"How can we be certain that you won't harm him?" Arthur asked suspiciously. Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes at the king, though Arthur raised his chin defiantly and stared back. He was the king; he would not be cowed by a beast, powerfully magical though it may be.

"He called me here, did he not? I cannot _disobey _him, let alone _harm _him, for he is the last dragonlord. Within him, lies the potential future of my great race, and if you do not want him to die, I suggest you bring him closer," Kilgharrah said in irritation. Arthur hesitated for a second longer, then nodded begrudingly, looking down again at the now barely-conscious warlock.

"You _will_ explain this later, Merlin."

Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan knelt down in unison, gently laying Merlin at the dragon's feet before slowly backing away. Merlin had finally, mercifully lost consciousness and thus did not see the look on Arthur's face when The Great Dragon breathed his healing magic over the warlock. Nor did he see the astonishment on his friends' faces when the golden light enveloped Merlin in a soft glow, instantly smoothing the agony on his brow and warming the grey pallor of his face to a healthier hue.

Kilgharrah stepped back as the magic visibly undulated over the dragonlord, settling himself down into a comfortable position. Merlin had been severely wounded; Kilgharrah knew that the warlock had come close to death's door, yet as always, seemed to avoid crossing that threshold by a matter of minutes.

"That's it?" Gwaine asked in astonishment. "Why isn't he awake?"

Arthur nodded his agreement with the knight's questions, glad that Gwaine had asked the cantankerous dragon first.

"Do not assume that magic fixes everything in the blink of an eye," Kilgharrah reprimanded. Gwaine looked disbelievingly at the dragon.

"What did you do then?" Arthur asked.

"I gave him a spell to assist his body to heal using his own magic."

"He said that he could not heal himself," Arthur argued.

"That is true. It is never a good idea to try healing oneself, whether with medicine or with magic. Merlin would have been a fool to try and heal such an injury on his own."

"How long will it take to work?" Percival asked, looking at Merlin's rapidly healing wound.

"It depends on his own strength. The more powerful the warlock, the faster the spell will work, for even though I cast the magic, it is Merlin's own power that does the healing."

"Merlin seems very powerful," Arthur ventured, testing the dragon's willingness to reveal what Merlin had hidden for so very long.

"You cannot even begin to imagine the power the warlock wields, King Arthur. Neither can Merlin, for that matter," Kilgharrah said, only confusing the king further.

"Then he should be healed very quickly..." Percival said, watching in awe as the light surrounding Merlin intensified for just a few seconds before sinking into his skin.

"Very quickly indeed," Kilgharrah confirmed. "He will need rest, however, which is something Merlin is not likely to do."

Everyone nodded their agreement, knowing exactly how stubborn the energetic warlock could be when ordered to rest, especially when Merlin felt his friends were in need of his help. Arthur raised his eyebrow, a calculating look on his face.

"Could you keep him asleep?" the king asked, thinking of the way Gaius drugged Merlin to make him rest after they rescued King Rodor. Arthur raised an eyebrow questioningly at the still-silent dragon. Kilgharrah scoffed.

"Of course I could."

"Do it, then," Arthur demanded.

"You haven't the power to give me such commands, King Arthur," Kilgharrah said grumpily, looking pointedly at Merlin.

"No, I haven't," Arthur agreed, awed once again that _Merlin _could wield such power. Kilgharrah looked at Arthur for a long moment, as though searching for something within the young king.

"But I will do so, because I feel you are right," the dragon allowed, breathing once more upon the warlock and settling down for the rest of the night beside his kin.

* * *

King Arthur sat wearily beside the new fire ring that Percival had made to keep them warm as they watched over Merlin. The others had gone into the woods in search of the villagers' sanctuary in order to escort them home. Arthur held himself stiffly; he could feel the dragon's steely gaze upon him. While the beast hadn't spoken since he had agreed to keep Merlin asleep, the dragon had kept his narrowed eyes on the king. It was rather unnerving; Arthur wasn't sure how Merlin could be so friendly and even flippant with the creature. But then again, Merlin was Merlin. He was friendly with just about everything, Arthur reasoned.

With the villagers finally settled back in their homes, the knights came one by one to join Arthur at the fire. When all five of them were seated around the circle, Leon voiced what they had all been thinking.

"Did any of you know about Merlin having magic?"

"I thought as much," Gwaine offered. "Didn't really have any proof till he took on a whole band of sorcerers on his own without blinking an eye. That's Merlin for you, huh?"

Arthur grunted his agreement, but gathered his thoughts for a few moments before he answered.

"I didn't know until this afternoon, though I think I suspected something for a long time. I just didn't want to acknowledge it. But Merlin had one of his funny feelings about a quarter of a mile before we found the Dryad. Then his little speech about feeling the energy of the place; no normal man could do that. It was all I could think about for the rest of the day."

"What about the law?" Gwaine asked, though Arthur thought that the knight was asking more for Merlin's sake than for any respect he may have had for Camelot's laws.

"I was just discussing that very topic with Merlin before we were attacked. He told me he thought that magic could be a force for good, so long as it was used for the right purposes."

"That sounds like something Merlin would say," Gwaine reasoned, his eyes narrowing as he looked shrewdly at his king. "Do you agree?"

"I do, now, to a point. But I certainly don't know what the right purpose for magic is," Arthur conceded.

"Who is to say what that purpose is?" Elyan asked sensibly.

"My thoughts exactly. I told Merlin that I didn't feel qualified to perform such a task. Then he went on to tell me a story so fantastic, it seemed more like one of Gaius' stories that Merlin is always spouting off."

"What was this story?" Percival asked.

"He told me of The Once and Future King who was destined to return magic and unite Albion. And of the warlock foretold to assist, protect and _advise _him."

"Warlock?" Leon asked.

"_Emrys_," Gwaine whispered in awe.

"How did you know that?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"The druids have a story that they've been telling for many generations. I've heard the tale told by at least three different clan leaders."

"You've spent time with the druids?" Leon asked, surprised.

"I've been all across the five kingdoms," Gwaine replied. "Sometimes a city is just too loud. The forest can be very welcoming. That and the druids have a lovely elderberry wine..."

"What did these druid clan leaders say about this Emrys?" Arthur asked curiously, interrupting what was sure to be a lengthy soliloquy on wine.

"That they were waiting for him; they practically revere him. Emrys is supposed to be the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth. Past, present and future," Gwaine finished, looking pointedly at Arthur. The king's breath caught in his throat. Merlin certainly hadn't said that much, though it explained the dragon's comment about the unbelievable power Merlin wielded.

"Where is this Emrys, then? And who is the Once and Future King?" Elyan asked.

"If Merlin is to be believed, _I_ am the Once and Future King," Arthur said.

"And Emrys?" Leon asked, though everyone turned to look at Merlin at his question.

"Merlin..." Arthur confirmed. The dragon inclined his head, as though in acknowledgement, but he said nothing.

"What _exactly _is a warlock?" Leon asked. Everyone looked to Gwaine.

"From what I gather, it's someone who can do magic as a child, like they were born with the ability to instinctually use magic," the knight explained.

"_Born_ with it?" Elyan asked. Percival nodded his agreement and confirmed Gwaine's explanation.

"There was a young boy in my village when I was a lad; he was taken to be raised by the druids when he was little more than a foundling. He started to show signs of magic when he was only about six summers old."

Arthur felt stunned. Not only was he dealing with the revelation that Merlin was a warlock, he now had to come to terms with the fact that Merlin was far more powerful than any king could ever imagine themselves to be.

"What of magic, then? We have seen its evils many times before," Leon said cautiously.

"Morgana is a prime example of that," Elyan agreed.

"Morgana, I fear, is not the best example of what magic can be," Arthur admitted quietly. "I've come to realize over the last two days that Morgana is bitter and hateful because of the wrongs that she perceives to have been committed against her. As I told Merlin earlier, a cornered boar will always charge. Magic itself did not make her into what she is. Morgana did that on her own just as readily as Odin let his hatred towards me guide his actions with Nemeth. Unfortunately, it has become rather difficult to separate Morgana's darkness from her magic."

Once again, everyone turned to look at Merlin, knowing that he was the least hateful and most humble man they knew.

"If ever there was an argument for the good in magic, it's laying right over there," Gwaine said, jerking his thumb in Merlin's direction. Everyone slowly nodded, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you suppose Mithian knows?" Leon asked curiously, bringing everyone's attention back.

"She must," Arthur answered. "I cannot see Merlin marrying someone with such a secret between them."

"Then why did he keep that secret from us?" Gwaine asked. "We're his closest friends."

"I don't know," Arthur admitted, shaking his head and turning to look at the unconscious warlock once more. "I can only think that he was too afraid to reveal the truth; afraid of our reactions. If that is the case, then we've failed him indeed."

* * *

When Merlin woke, the sky was bright and he could see the sun was nearly at its apex. He blinked a few times, trying to wake from his heavy slumber. Merlin almost lost his battle with exhaustion when the memory of the night before flooded him with a jolt of realization.

Arthur knew about Merlin's magic and he hadn't been angry. In fact, he had _commanded _Merlin to use it.

A sudden flash of what _else _had happened the previous night had him grasping at his side and sitting up in astonishment. Merlin realized belatedly that he was still in the field beside the village center. There was a bustling commotion about the village as the thatched roofs that had burned were repaired or replaced. Percival and Gwaine were on ladders helping the villagers, their chainmail discarded as they worked on the thatching. Elyan and Leon were organizing the long bundles of dried straw to pass up to the others. Looking around him curiously, Merlin was surprised to see Arthur sitting not far away, watching him as he shifted around.

"Arthur..." Merlin uttered, his voice dry and scratchy from disuse.

"Why did you never tell me?" Arthur asked as he handed his friend a cup of water.

"What?" Merlin asked, taken aback by the lack of anger in Arthur's tone. Though Merlin was ashamed to hear the hurt subtly lacing the king's voice.

"You know of what I speak," Arthur replied quietly.

"Well, at first, it was because you would have chopped my head off."

"I wouldn't have done that within the first year of knowing you, Merlin," Arthur countered, the hurt more clearly evident in his voice. "Why wait so long?"

"After we became friends, I couldn't ask you to defy your father for me. _You _knowing that I had magic was almost as dangerous for you as it was for _me _to have it. I could not take that risk, not when I was fated to protect you."

"Then it wasn't just one of Gaius' bedtime stories you told me last night?" Arthur asked, a humorless smile on his lips. Merlin shook his head sadly, wishing that he had been able to explain more before the attack.

"No, Arthur. You _are _the Once and Future King, and I _am _Emrys, the warlock born to protect you and help you in creating Albion."

"My father has been dead for more than four years," Arthur said, avoiding Merlin's gaze and staring into the fire. "Before we left on this journey, you professed that I was as good as your brother. _Why _then did you not tell me the most important thing about yourself?"

Merlin took a deep breath, understanding Arthur's distress and wanting to ensure that he said this right.

"I suppose I was scared. Maybe even a bit cynical in my belief in this destiny we share. I've done many things over the years, some I'm proud of and others I'm ashamed of. But I've done it all in the belief that I was doing the right thing at the time. After your father died, you swore to me that you would never trust magic. That it had killed both your parents. I couldn't see _any _way to tell you at that point, because _I_ was the old man who tried to heal your father."

Arthur's eyes widened and his brows lifted as he processed that.

"_You_ were the old sorcerer?!" Arthur asked, his eyes flashing indignantly.

"Yes," Merlin answered, looking into Arthur's eyes. "Your father's death was not my fault."

"I know that!" Arthur said, narrowing his eyes at the warlock sitting beside him.

"Then what's your problem with Dragoon?" Merlin asked in confusion.

"You kicked me! Like a horse! You said, _'Heeyah_!' and _kicked_ me!"

"Well I was eighty years old at the time," Merlin rationalized. Arthur just scowled.

"How did you do it?"

"The same way Morgana became Hilda. With an aging spell."

"Then you were also the one to take the blame for the love enchantment my father wanted to execute Guinevere for?"

"Yes," Merlin confirmed.

"I led you to the pyre for that," Arthur said in a choked voice. "You were nearly _burned_."

"I'm still here, though. It all worked out."

"I pulled my sword on you, ready to kill you after the healing spell failed to save my father. And I ask you why you did not tell me," Arthur said, his voice full of self-deprecating censure. His eyes welled with tears as he thought of how close he had come to personally killing his best friend. Merlin was similarly affected.

"You understand my silence?" Merlin whispered. "I've been doing my best to soften your stance on magic since the day I failed to save your father and turned you completely against magic."

"In a way I do, but had you not thought that perhaps _you_ were the best argument for magic of all, Merlin? I've risked my life for you many times, ever since I watched you drink poison in my stead. You say that I'm just as well your brother. What you don't seem to understand is that you're just as well as _mine_. I'd like to believe that I could have listened to you and acted rationally, but I suppose we'll never know."

"I am sorry, Arthur."

"It is done," Arthur answered, then raised his eyebrow wryly, trying to shake the seriousness of the conversation, necessary though it had been. "Your dragon is rather tetchy, did you know? He took off this morning without even a word after staring at me all night."

"I've been dealing with him for the better part of the last decade. I know _exactly_ how _tetchy _Kilgharrah can be," Merlin chuckled.

"You'll have to tell me about this supposedly slain dragon some other time," Arthur said pointedly, rising to his feet and holding out an arm to help Merlin stand. The warlock looked at Arthur's hand and then into his eyes for a second before he accepted the offer. After the king pulled Merlin to his feet, he kept a hold of the thin man's arm, making an unspoken pact with him. Merlin did not need words to understand Arthur's meaning.

_Brothers we were, brothers we will always be._

* * *

After Merlin was on his feet and obviously well-mended, Arthur wasted no time in calling a Round Table Council. Gwaine, Leon, Elyan and Percival sought space for them to discuss their next course of action in the least damaged hut in the village. Meanwhile Merlin and Arthur spoke with the village elders about the difficulties that Alvarr's band had caused in the last month, and what to do about the attacker's bodies. In the end, it was decided that a funeral pyre would be built.

Merlin himself took responsibility for the task as none of the villagers had any interest in showing respect for those that had terrorized them for more than a week before trying to burn down their village. While Arthur continued the discussion with the elders, Merlin returned to the field where the bodies lay and began the task of preparing them. The job was made simple with magic, but Merlin felt the weight of guilt settle upon his shoulders as he laid out each of the men he had killed.

"_Bærnedon þás walum, níedfarum hira restan,_ " Merlin whispered, holding a hand out and watching silently as the flames consumed the pyres.

"What did that mean?"

Merlin turned in surprise, not realizing that Arthur had followed him.

"Burn these bodies, take them to their rest."

"Sounded almost like a prayer," Arthur commented curiously. "Couldn't you have just said, _burn them_?"

"It's the least I could do after killing them."

"They were attacking us, you especially Merlin. You have nothing to feel guilty for."

"I know it was _justified_, and that they would have killed us without regret. But I hope _I _will always feel some regret at the loss of life. You've seen how easy it was for me. More than ten men with a sweep of my hand. The day I lose the ability to regret that power is the day I become a monster."

"I don't think you could ever be a monster. An idiot, yes. Maybe even a dollop-head," Arthur replied.

"Not while I've got you to keep me humble," Merlin said with a small grin, appreciating what Arthur was doing.

"That's what I'm here for," Arthur confirmed. "Now come with me, some of the village elders are understandably concerned about a certain friend of yours who came to call last night," The king explained, slinging an arm over his advisor's shoulder and directing him back towards the village.

* * *

While none of the villagers had actually witnessed Merlin's call, or the dragon's healing of his dragonlord, Kilgharrah had been rather difficult to miss once they returned. Thus Merlin found himself assuring the elders numerous times that the dragon would not do them any harm.

"That dragon is a menace! Camelot was nearly burnt to the ground when that dragon got loose! I took my family and settled here to escape the beast and you brought it straight to us!"

"I promise you, he will not harm you, or your village, or your livestock," Merlin repeated for the third time.

"How can we be sure?"

"Because," Merlin conceded, realizing that only the truth would do. "I am a dragonlord, and I have commanded him not to harm anyone ever again."

"Then why was he here?!"

"I called him to me so that he could heal me," Merlin answered, gesturing to the rather obvious hole in his tunic and the blood still staining the fabric.

The villagers seemed to accept Merlin's assurances after that, but none of them seemed too comfortable with the thought of Kilgharrah roaming free. When Arthur and Merlin finally pulled away, Merlin let out a sigh of frustration.

"What do you expect, Merlin? He's a great scaly beast who tried to incinerate Camelot. He's not going to be everyone's best friend."

Merlin was just about to reply when they entered the hut where the knights were waiting. The knights' conversation suddenly came to a halt and Merlin looked at each of them nervously.

"Hello," he said simply, unable to say anything more.

"That's all?" Gwaine asked, chuckling. "No, 'Yes I _am _an incredibly powerful warlock and I could kill you with a blink of my eyes, so what's for breakfast?'"

Merlin settled for rolling his eyes instead, looking at each man in turn with a tentative smile.

"We hold no grudge," Leon answered for all of them, lifting a weight from Merlin's shoulders that he hadn't fully realized was there.

"Thank you," Merlin whispered. He had been prepared for anger and shouting and perhaps even an arrest when he finally revealed his magic. Merlin didn't quite know how to deal with such easy acceptance.

"Mordred is still in Morgana's hands," Arthur began, bringing their attention back to their quest.

"Both Kilgharrah and the dryad warned me that Morgana has taken Mordred to The Dark Tower," Merlin offered, though he felt strange referring to his magic, if only indirectly.

"The Dark Tower?" Arthur asked, alarmed. Merlin nodded his head in confirmation.

"What is that, exactly?" Merlin asked. "I asked Kilgharrah, but as you can probably imagine, he wasn't very clear."

"It's a place that all Knights of Camelot are taught to dread, with good reason. Few have ever returned from their journeys there, and those that do are often mad," Arthur said gravely.

"And Mordred is there?" Leon asked. "For what purpose?"

"I'm not sure what she meant, but Lowri-" Merlin began.

"Lowri?" Gwaine interrupted, confused.

"The dryad," Merlin explained as though it was obvious.

"And she gave you her name? You certainly have a way with the ladies," Gwaine chuckled as he wagged his eyebrows suggestively. Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled up his sleeve to show Mithian's favor still tied around his wrist.

"As astounding as Merlin's love life is, we have pressing matters to discuss," Arthur interrupted, settling the knights instantly.

"What else did the dryad tell you?" Arthur asked Merlin.

"That Mordred would not be the same if he survived; Lowri suspected that Morgana was collecting mandrakes recently to place Mordred under the Tiene Diaga."

"What's that?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm not sure. I've never heard of it," Merlin admitted. "Except from Lowri, and all she said was that it was a dark ritual and that only the most powerful of healing waters could hope to break it."

"So Gaius' books haven't told you everything?" Arthur asked, though Merlin merely rolled his eyes.

"I've not _read _all of them yet," Merlin replied cheekily. "The dryad only said that it was a dark ritual used by the high priestesses."

Arthur chuckled humorlessly, his ire clearly visible in his expression.

"Then we ride within the hour."

"Where to?" Merlin asked, though he knew exactly what Arthur had in mind.

"First, we'll track these attackers back to their camp and see if there's any information for us there. Then, we find where Morgana has taken Mordred. If that is The Dark Tower, so be it. We will rescue our brother."

Gwaine laughed sardonically. "And hopefully not die trying."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Something to keep in mind... I hate character death. ;)**


	10. Teine Diaga

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I thoroughly enjoy reading them, they really make my day! Ilovethestorys, no worries, I knew you weren't being mean by your comment. You are right that Merlin's speech felt out of place in the episode. I felt like it was setting up a reveal, not the disappointment that came after! That's why I stole it and repurposed it:)**

* * *

**Teine Diaga**

The screams were the worst, Mordred decided. One didn't grow up in a druid camp and not know the terror inherent in a blood-curdling scream. Mordred had been witness to enough raids to know that screams like that were never a good thing. Now he heard them every hour of the day. Even from those he knew to be dead; his mother, Cerdan and even Kara. They were all screaming, day after day after day.

The laughing was almost as bad though. Ever since he had embarked on this new journey as a Knight of Camelot, Mordred felt younger than he had in years. The other knights had been good about sharing their knowledge and experience and helping him learn the art of swordplay, but there had also been plenty of teasing. It had all been in good fun; a brotherhood, they had said.

But ever since he had been brought to this dark, foreboding tower, all Mordred could see was smirk after smirk on the faces of the men who claimed to be his brothers. They mocked him with jeers and taunts, ridiculing his every cringe and flinch. It was all Mordred could do to keep himself from squeezing his eyes shut, curling into a ball and clapping his hands over his ears.

Merlin though, was the worst. Mordred had come to fear the sight of the older warlock the most. This Merlin had a darkness about him that seemed unnatural. The glinting power in the thin man's eyes seemed to be pure evil. The vicious sneers and teeth-baring growls seemed inhuman.

The only respite from it all had been Morgana.

Mordred had tried several times to block out the sights and sounds of the tower room in order to find his center like Cerdan and then Aglain had taught him, but there was no concentrating with the laughter and the screams. Morgana had been right, after all. Trying to hide magic was no way to learn how to use it.

"Mordred," Morgana called out, causing the huddled knight to scramble from his corner.

"Morgana!" he exclaimed in relief.

"Let's get something to eat, shall we?"

Mordred nodded, following the dark-haired beauty in much the same way he had as a boy.

"I need you to do something for me, Mordred," Morgana began as they sat at the table. Mordred quickly tucked in to the food waiting there for him.

"Anything, Morgana," Mordred promised, not even looking up from the plate of food. He was ravenously hungry; he couldn't recall the last time he had eaten. Or what it had been for that matter.

"It will take a sacrifice on your part," Morgana said, testing Mordred's will. The young knight had been far easier to break than she'd thought; he had a hidden vulnerability that Morgana was easily able to exploit, using her knowledge of his early life. His being orphaned at a young age, being passed from hand to hand until he reached adulthood. He was almost _too _eager to please her in his quest for any sort of approval from any mother-figure he could find.

His magic, though significant in its raw strength, was mostly untapped and untamed. Mordred had very little skill with actually controlling his gift, relying mostly on the earliest stages of magical tutelage to gather his power and release it in an uncontrolled burst. He was volatile, as well, prone to emotional outbursts. There was little finesse, but plenty of brute strength, Morgana mused. Mordred may have been of a high-priest caliber warlock, had his education not been interrupted. It was no matter to Morgana though. He would serve his purpose, and serve it well.

"I will do anything you need," Mordred promised blindly.

"Good. Tell me please... Who is Emrys?"

Mordred's face scowled comically at the question.

"He doesn't like me. He is always glaring at me and he doesn't trust me! What do I have to do to make him trust me?! I saved Arthur's life!"

"Mordred," Morgana soothed, frustrated that Alvarr may have had a point about Mordred just telling stories.

"He thinks he's so powerful," Mordred groused again, pouting over his plate. Morgana had to wonder if the mandrakes hadn't made the knight regress somewhat into childhood.

"I need to know who Emrys is, Mordred, if our plan is to succeed," Morgana said hypnotically.

"Emrys, he's in Camelot," Mordred said.

"I know that, I need to know _who _he is, not _where _he is," Morgana said, straining to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"He's the last person anyone would expect to be the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth, past, present or future."

"WHO IS HE?!" Morgana roared, losing her patience at last. Mordred looked at her as though injured.

"Emrys... The warlock Emrys is the king's oafish manservant, Merlin."

"_What_?" Morgana asked after a full minute of shocked silence. "You must be mistaken. That is impossible, I have held him captive, I WOULD KNOW!"

"Emrys, he is Merlin," Mordred repeated. "He has been the king's shadow these many years, protecting him in secret. He thinks he is so much better than me. He hates me!"

"NO!" Morgana raged, screaming in utter fury, causing Mordred to cover his ears and cower back into his chair. Morgana recovered herself, breathing deeply and forcing a charming smile for Mordred.

"Morgana?" the knight asked tentatively.

"You did well, Mordred," the witch replied through clenched teeth. "Let's go back to your room."

Mordred looked alarmed for a moment and almost refused to go, but when Morgana gripped his arm, he stood obediently and allowed her to lead him back to the room where the screams and scornful laughter kept him curled up in the corner.

* * *

Morgana leaned back against the door of the room into which she had just locked Mordred. It had taken all of her self-control not to release a torrent of white-hot rage when Mordred had finally revealed Emrys' true identity.

_Merlin._

How had she missed it all these years? Morgause had taught her to recognise magic in others; she had thought that she was infallible in that particular skill. How had Merlin masked himself, Morgana mused. The witch had held him bound and captive before finally deciding to use the formorroh on him all those years ago. Just recently he had even touched her when he was helping 'Hilda' back at the ruins. Yet still, Morgana had felt nothing of his power.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Mordred was confused or mistaken, but the more Morgana thought about it, the more sense it made. The unbelievable luck that the manservant seemed imbued with. The unrelenting drive the old man had shown in killing the formorroh. The smug look on Merlin's face when Morgana's magic had failed her the second time she'd taken Camelot as her own.

Growling low under her breath, Morgana finally stalked away from the tower room and went to her own makeshift bed. She needed to rest, because when next she met Merlin, he would rue the day he ever laid eyes on her.

* * *

Some hours later, Morgana woke with a scream upon her lips, the sheer terror of the dream vision she had seen causing her whole body to tremble. She had seen Merlin defeat Alvarr and all of his men with barely any effort. Then she had seen him here at the tower, every bit as powerful and terrifying as she imagined Emrys to be, toppling the tower and calling lightning from the heavens to strike her down with it. There was no way she could allow the dream to come to pass. She had to take Mordred and leave the tower. If she could intercept Arthur's pathetic rescue party, she could use the element of surprise to take them off guard and pass off her newest ally into Arthur's unwitting and grateful hands.

Her mind decided, Morgana wasted no further time. Unlocking the door to Mordred's makeshift prison, the witch stormed in.

"Morgana!" Mordred called out, happy to see her.

"We're leaving," Morgana said curtly, offering no other explanation.

"Where are we going?" Mordred asked.

"We're going to take you back to Arthur."

"What?! No! Why?" Mordred protested.

"This is your new task; you will be my informant inside Camelot. I need time to think and plan and find new forces, perhaps the Saxons. You will give that to me by keeping me informed of Arthur and especially Merlin's decisions. But I'll have to do something terrible to you to make Merlin trust that you're not my ally. You'll have to trust that all is done for a purpose."

Mordred nodded, following Morgana's swiftly moving form without question.

"Anything, Morgana. I am your friend and ally forever."

Morgana smirked, glad that her back was to Mordred, preventing him from witnessing her triumph at how easily he complied with her whims.

"Hold on to me," Morgana commanded, holding out her arm imperiously as soon as they had left the tower. Mordred instantly complied, trusting her implicitly. _"Níedfaru ús oþ eftsíðas gád æthwearf!"_

Mordred closed his eyes against the sudden tumult swirling around them, carrying them back to the forest where they had camped with Alvarr. Morgana looked around her as soon as the dust cleared and nearly growled in her fury.

The camp was deserted, and had been for many hours. The vision that Morgana had seen must have been happening as she saw it. Which meant that Alvarr was dead. A muffled whimper sounded nearby; Morgana whirled around, searching for the source. There was still someone here, and the witch intended to find out who.

"Show yourself!" Morgana commanded, putting the strength of her magic into her words, making it impossible for a weak-minded individual to disobey. Sefa's tear-streaked face came into view.

"They are dead! All of them! I saw their funeral pyre!" Sefa cried out.

"Then they die as martyrs to a worthy cause," Morgana answered coldly.

"No! They did not," Sefa answered angrily. "They died under your orders and victims of your selfish whims! I saw Merlin using magic in front of the king to light the pyre! The king let him do so with no condemnation. _You _are the one attacking villages for no cause!"

"Yet another way you've disappointed me, Sefa."

The girl scowled at the witch, no longer timid, but strong and resolute.

"You have no heart, no mercy. You have become just the same as Uther, the man you proclaim to hate."

"DO NOT MENTION THAT MAN!" Morgana shrieked in rage, grabbing a hold of Sefa with magic and throwing her to the ground on her hands and knees.

"Will you kill me as well?" Sefa asked. "One who was born a druid? One that you claim to be fighting for?"

Morgana looked coldly into Sefa's eyes.

"You would side with my worthless brother. You are no better than him."

With a twist of her wrist, Morgana pushed Sefa back with a wave of magic. The Druid girl slid through the leaves and dirt until she ran into a tree, leaving the girl in an unconscious heap.

"Come Mordred, we have a king to surprise."

* * *

**A/N: Uh oh! Poor Mordred. This is a rather short chapter, and since I'm so nice, *wink, wink* I'm giving you two chapters. I'll not beg for them, but I will say, reviews make me happy:)**


	11. Empty

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer**: **Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Arthur gets a little something off his chest. :)**

* * *

**Empty**

Arthur led the group out of the village, all of them walking in order to look for the way to the rogue camp. After a few hours of following various trails, they paused in a small clearing, looking for more footprints after the trail they were following grew cold.

"Has anyone found anything?" Arthur asked, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

"Nothing," Gwaine answered, while Percival shook his head in the negative.

"Over here," Elyan called, pointing out a pair of boot prints at the edge of the treeline.

"Good man," Arthur said, leading the group in the direction the prints came from. A few moments later, they came to another stretch of the river they had crossed the previous day. It was much wider in this area, but also shallower.

"It's possible they used the river to hide their tracks until they left the water here. The river turns eastward again after this, leading away from the village. We should follow the water for awhile and see if we can find their entry point," Arthur said.

"Leon and I can follow on the opposite bank and see if they left any tracks on that side," Elyan proposed, and the king nodded.

"We should refill our water skins before we go any further," Merlin suggested.

"Let's take a short break here, then, and have some provisions while we're at it," the king replied.

Merlin took the waterskins to be filled while the others rummaged through their packs, pulling out dried meats and bread. After a few moments they all sat in silence as they ate their meager meal.

"We were wondering last night, Merlin," Gwaine ventured a few moments later, "If Mithian knows about your special skills."

Merlin looked surprised for a moment, unaware that they had been discussing him. Though he supposed it was only natural that they had.

"Of course," he answered after a moment's pause. "She _is _my wife, you know. Even if she hadn't known before we married, considering our shared quarters, it would have been rather difficult, if not impossible, to hide the fact that I have magic."

"Why is it that you told her and not us?!" Gwaine asked indignantly. Merlin raised an eyebrow at the knight.

"I _wonder_..." Merlin answered dryly.

"Yes, you should!" Gwaine said, and Percival, Elyan and Leon nodded their agreement.

"Yes, tell them, Merlin," Arthur said teasingly, jerking a thumb towards the knights. "Why ever would you confide in your _wife_ instead of this lot?"

"Well, he didn't tell _you _either," Percival interjected.

"No, but he had his reasons," Arthur answered, pleased to find that he didn't feel the same bitter flare of betrayal that had flared at the mention of Merlin's secrets before the warlock had explained things. Arthur had made his peace with it.

"Well then, tell us why you told Mithian!" Gwaine said.

"I didn't tell her," Merlin answered honestly.

"But you just said she _knew_!" Elyan argued.

"She _does _know, but I didn't _tell _her."

"Stop talking like that blasted dragon and tell us how she found out!" Gwaine said. Merlin chuckled and shook his head.

"Simple, she _saw _me use it at the tomb. She has _eyes_, unlike you lot, considering you've never noticed, not in all the years I've used it _right in front of you._"

"What did you do at the tomb?" Leon asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Yes, what did you do?" Arthur asked, his confusion clear. "I don't remember you doing anything particularly unusual, unless you call actually using a sword in the the way it is meant to be used unusual."

Merlin chuckled dryly at Arthur's jab, but then looked down at his feet, scratching the back of his neck as he mumbled to the ground, "Icausedtheearthquake."

"What was that?" Percival asked.

"Did you just say something about an _earthquake_?" Arthur asked incredulously. Merlin sighed in exasperation and looked Arthur right in the eyes.

"I caused the earth to quake."

Five astonished faces looked at Merlin in stunned silence.

"Morgana was there, you were surrounded, Odin was about to take your head off, I had to do something," Merlin explained.

"Of all the distractions that you could have employed- tossing a rock, for example, or yelling very loudly, or just charging into the room uninvited like you do so often. But no, you made the earth _quake?!"_

"It worked didn't it?"

Arthur laughed humorlessly for a moment, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I'm beginning to see the irony of having had you as a dogsbody for so long, Merlin."

"Ooh, you know what irony is?" Merlin jabbed, causing everyone to chuckle at Arthur's expense.

"Merlin..." Gwaine suddenly broke in, a sly grin on his face.

"What?"

"That wasn't the _only_ tremor you've caused recently, was it?"

Merlin's face instantly flushed red.

"I've no idea what you mean," he mumbled, avoiding Gwaine's eyes.

"Spare provisions are never a bad idea, eh?" the triumphant knight chuckled, and the others soon caught on. Arthur's eyes grew large as he looked at his advisor in a new light.

"We should get going," Merlin said, hopping up from his stone and moving down the river bank in search of more prints. Arthur shook his head and stood to follow.

"We are _never _going to let him live that down, do you understand?" Arthur ordered, much to everyone's glee, then followed after Merlin's rapidly moving form.

* * *

"We're getting nowhere fast," Leon said nearly an hour later. The river they had been following began to turn back to the east again, and there had been little sign of the rogue's trail.

Merlin looked around them, at the frustration on everyone's faces and realized that there was probably something that he could do.

"I might have an idea," Merlin offered.

"What would that be?" Arthur asked.

"Give me just a moment," Merlin said, walking a few feet away from the group and putting a hand on a nearby tree. Closing his eyes in concentration, Merlin reached out with his mind's eye, as he had done while backtracking Morgana's magical signature, though instead of using a centering object, he used the forest around him.

The trees, while not sentient, were very much alive and able to soak up magical traces when it was used nearby. Thus, Merlin used the energies within the trees to trace the recent magical disturbances that the rogues had used to attract the patrol. The others watched, fascinated, as his head moved subtly with each magical signature the warlock picked up on. Finally, Merlin traced the magical trail to a deserted camp nearly a mile to the west.

"We almost passed it entirely," Merlin said, opening his eyes and turning to the others. "It's this way."

Merlin gestured in the direction of the camp, then wordlessly headed in that direction.

"This magic lark is pretty handy," Gwaine mused, then followed behind Merlin unquestioningly.

"It would seem so," Arthur agreed, and the rest of them fell into step behind the warlock.

* * *

"There's no one here," Percival said when they finally came upon the empty camp.

"Don't be so sure," Merlin replied, warily eyeing the quiet tents and long-extinguished fires. They'd had too many attacks in seemingly deserted camps.

"Fan out, search the area," Arthur ordered, wanting to be on their way as soon as possible.

"Over here! Merlin, she needs you!" Elyan called out, causing everyone to rush towards him as he knelt beside a woman on the ground.

"It's Sefa," Merlin said, recognizing the young woman that he had worked rather closely with as he too knelt beside her, pleased to see the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"Guinevere's handmaid?" Arthur asked, surprised. "The one who betrayed us to Morgana?"

"Yes," Merlin confirmed, crouching down to check Sefa's pulse. As soon as his hand touched her, Merlin stiffened.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, noticing Merlin's hesitation.

"She's alive and she ought to be just fine. But she was attacked with magic very recently."

"You're sure?" Arthur asked. Merlin nodded grimly without looking at the king.

"I've felt this magical signature before." As soon as Merlin said the words, he stood up, scanning the nearby trees as his pulse began to race. Reaching out with his senses, Merlin brushed an all-too-familiar presence.

"Morgana!" Merlin exclaimed, whirling around just in time for Morgana to blast him backwards into a tent that collapsed on top of the warlock, stunning him.

"Merlin," Morgana greeted him, laughing when Arthur and the knights unsheathed their swords and took up defensive positions.

"Ah, ah, ah," Morgana cooed, yanking on the chain that she held in her left hand, dragging a bound Mordred forward.

"Mordred?! Are you alright?" Arthur called out, glad to see the young man still alive.

"He's just fine, but he won't be if you try and touch me," Morgana bargained, revealing a knife that she suddenly held to Mordred's neck.

A frustrated growl ripped through the air as Merlin used magic to fling the heavy fabric and poles off of him and jump to his feet. The angry warlock stalked towards Morgana, his hands clenching and unclenching subconsciously.

"Temper, temper, Merlin," Morgana drawled triumphantly. "Or should I say _Emrys_?"

Merlin immediately froze. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat at the realization that Morgana knew _exactly _who he was. The witch smirked in triumph.

"Yes, I know what you are. Though considering you're still living, I have to wonder if your precious _king_ does," Morgana snarled. Merlin took a few cautious steps forward, slowly moving in front of Arthur and the knights. He lifted his arms in a gesture of peace which also allowed him to defend readily. Morgana glared at him and pressed the knife harder into Mordred's throat.

"Stop this, Morgana," Arthur tried, holding his hands up placatingly.

"Why should I, _dear brother_?" Morgana spat.

"I know."

"You know nothing!"

"You're wrong. I know all about Merlin's magic. His being Emrys and his role in the future of Camelot. I have no quarrel with him."

"You hate magic!" Morgana argued, but Arthur slowly shook his head.

"I admit that I did not understand before. I have been hurt by magic many times, but I know now that it is not the force of evil our father would have had us believe."

"Never call him that! He may have sired me, but Uther was _never _my father. You are just like him, Arthur. Just look at poor discarded Sefa over there, run out of Camelot with a death sentence on her head, all because she loved her father. It will not be long before you have Merlin on the pyre, even though the fool is painfully loyal to you, and utterly _dis_loyal to his own kind."

"I do not reward my loyal subjects with arrest," Arthur answered. "Sefa loved her father, yes, but she betrayed her kingdom. It was not her affection for him and his magic that brought about her sentence, but her treason. I could also point out that it was neither me or my knights who left her unconscious and defenseless in the forest."

"As if possessing magic isn't treason in Camelot?!" Morgana scoffed, purposely ignoring the mention of Sefa's condition. Arthur's expression grew more weary at the lack of remorse in his sister.

"As you see, Merlin is not under arrest or bound for a pyre or a chopping block, nor will he be when we return to the city. You don't have to do this, Morgana; we can put this hatred behind us, and start anew," the king said.

"You have no idea how deeply I hate you and what you've stood for over the years," Morgana growled. "You have taken _everything _from me."

"I have taken _nothing_ from you, sister," Arthur denied. "Were we not once good friends?"

"I was naive and foolish then. If you're so desperate to be friends again, you should concede the crown to its rightful owner."

"You have _never _been the rightful heir of Camelot, Morgana. In any case, when did you _ever _want to rule Camelot? You never had that desire until you betrayed us and left with Morgause. She manipulated you."

"DO NOT SPEAK OF HER! You are unworthy of speaking my sister's name," Morgana seethed.

Arthur held his tongue when Mordred gasped as the blade dug deeper into his flesh.

"Let him go, Morgana," Merlin said softly.

"I will do no such thing," Morgana said, though she stepped back and shocked them all by plunging the knife into Mordred's lower back before letting him drop. Before Mordred had fully fallen, Morgana had incanted her transportation spell, taking her away in a tumult of wind and tossing leaves.

"Mordred!" Arthur exclaimed, rushing towards the fallen man. The knights immediately followed the king, though Merlin hung back reluctantly, Kilgharrah's repeated instructions to let Mordred die ringing through his head.

Arthur knelt swiftly by the rapidly paling young man, rolling Mordred onto his side to get a better view of the wound. Blood rushed outwards at the movement and Arthur cursed, pressing a hand down upon it.

"How can we help?" Leon asked, seeking some duty that could be performed.

"We need a physician," Arthur murmured, looking around him. The king was surprised that the man he sought wasn't right beside him. Merlin was always the first to assist an injured person, his desire to help others overpowering any sense of caution.

"Merlin!" Arthur called and the knights parted, they too, turning to find the advisor-physician. The king was taken aback by the utter anguish that was clearly written across Merlin's face. The warlock was biting down on his lip so hard that Arthur was sure that he'd cut through it. His face was blotchy and it looked as though Merlin was struggling not to release a torrent of tortured tears.

"Merlin? Mordred is injured, he needs your skills as a physician," Arthur said urgently, and the warlock took two tentative steps forward before he seemed to buckle under another wave of anguish.

"I can't," Merlin finally managed to whisper, falling down to his knees just a few feet from the huddle of knights.

"Of course you can, you helped the dryad and you help all the time with Gaius! You can even use magic this time! You can surely heal a wound on another person with all this immense power you possess?" Arthur refuted.

"You and I are not the only ones with a destiny, Arthur," Merlin said hoarsely.

"Mordred is DYING!" Arthur yelled.

"I cannot heal him when he is destined-"

"To HELL with destiny! I command you to heal him!"

"HE'S DESTINED TO KILL YOU!" Merlin shouted, shocking everyone with the utterly uncharacteristic outburst. Arthur's mouth dropped open and he sat back, looking down at the wounded man.

"He has saved my life," the king murmured, closing his eyes and taking a deep, centering breath.

"Kilgharrah has warned me again and again not to trust him," Merlin whispered.

"You trust that scaly beast?! Is the future set in stone? Has everything been written out before we ever took a breath in this life?" Arthur asked.

"Gaius says that it is our choices that shape the future-" Merlin began.

"That's what Gaius says. What does _Merlin _say?" Arthur interjected. Merlin took a deep breath, looking around him at the men surrounding him. Most of them not born to the nobility inherent in their very nature.

"I don't believe it is _un_changeable, but your death is what I've been striving _against _all these years. And I've never been able to change a future path that I've been shown. I've _seen _him killing you, in a vision granted to me by a powerful seer."

"You said this morning that you regret every loss of life. That the day you lost that ability was the day you became a monster. Do not let something that has not even happened force you down that path," Arthur said gravely.

"Is this you keeping me humble?" Merlin asked with a weak smile.

"It is what I'm here for," Arthur said, returning the grin for a moment before turning serious once more. "Now Mordred needs you."

"Emrys, please,"Mordred called out, reminding Merlin of when he had hidden the boy Mordred in Morgana's chambers. Looking around at all the earnest and anguished faces of the knights and finally at Arthur's firm, but encouraging expression, Merlin closed his eyes and nodded.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur said, surprising the warlock. Merlin nodded once more and moved closer to Mordred. Arthur was on Mordred's other side, still pressing his hand to the stab wound.

"You'll need to move your hand," Merlin said softly, meeting Arthur's eyes and nodding reassuringly. Arthur returned the nod and pulled his hand away, causing Mordred to grimace and grunt with the pain. Merlin placed his hand over the wound meeting Mordred's eyes with a warning look before taking a deep breath and looking away.

"_Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare,_" Merlin said, his eyes burning a brilliant gold. Though he had blatantly performed magic in front of the others a few times now, his back had been to them every time. Arthur had been expecting the unnatural light to flare in his advisor's eyes, but he was still taken aback by the sight of it.

"Thank you, Emrys," Mordred whispered, the pained expression melting away as he met Merlin's eyes. The warlock nodded, though he was grim-faced.

"_Don't make me regret it_," Merlin replied telepathically. Mordred held Merlin's gaze for a moment longer, his eyes blank as though he hadn't heard what the warlock had projected. Merlin frowned, then reached out to the druid-knight's mind and was appalled at the disconnect he found there. It was as though Mordred was an empty shell.

Merlin leaned back, a stunned look on his face, as Mordred sat up with a familiar smirk on his face. Merlin had seen the same smug look on Morgana's face many times. There was a darkness behind the emptiness within Mordred; it seemed as though he was cut off from everything that made him who he was. Merlin wasn't even sure if Mordred could use his magic in this state. It both disgusted and frightened the warlock. This must be what the dryad had meant by the Teine Diaga. Mordred was not the same person, and Merlin wasn't sure how to reverse it, except what Lowri had said about needing powerful healing waters.

"_Swefnu_!" Merlin said quickly, knowing that Mordred could not be allowed to hear their plans, lest he relay them straight back to Morgana.

"Merlin?!" Arthur exclaimed, catching the limp man as he fell backwards. It had almost seemed as though the warlock was communicating with Mordred silently, though how, Arthur wasn't sure. The king had watched Merlin's face morph from stern to disgust to horror.

"We need to get him back to Gaius. We need to know what exactly this Teine Diaga entails. He's not himself; I believe that Morgana has complete control over him. I don't think he can even use his magic like this."

"Mordred has magic?" Leon exclaimed. Merlin's eyes suddenly went wide.

"Yes?" Merlin answered sheepishly, realizing belatedly what he had just revealed. "Is it really all that surprising? He _was _a druid, after all."

"Not every druid has magic," Arthur argued.

"True, but most do, at least a little," Merlin reasoned. "At the very least they can feel energies around them like I described with the dryad."

"As interesting as this little lesson is, Merlin is right, we need to get back to Camelot," Arthur said.

"What of Sefa?" Elyan asked, looking back at the still unconscious woman.

"We'll take her too."

"In order to execute her?" Merlin asked, his brow furrowing in disappointment. Arthur's face darkened.

"No. Though I cannot overlook her treason, I have no desire to execute her, nor does Guinevere. She has despaired many a time at the thought that Sefa was still ignorant to Guinevere's bluff when the girl escaped."

"We could leave her in the care of a druid camp. She needs guidance and support, lest she become as bitter as Morgana," Merlin offered, and Arthur nodded in agreement. The warlock stepped over to Sefa, who grimaced and slowly blinked her eyes open.

"Sefa?" Merlin asked gently, reaching out a hand to help the young woman to sit up gingerly. "Careful," he admonished when she groaned and held a hand to her head.

"Merlin?" she asked, utterly confused. Then she looked around and saw that she was surrounded by the king and his knights and her face paled.

"Can you stand, Sefa?" Arthur asked, his tone firm, but not unkind.

"I don't know," she whispered, her lip trembling as she avoided the eye of the king. "Will you kill me now?"

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. "No, Sefa, I have no intentions of executing you. Neither did the queen for that matter."

"But... She said... I was... I was going to be executed!"

"She hoped to capture your father; you were never going to be executed. Banished, perhaps, but not executed."

Sefa's whole body seemed to sag beneath the weight of Arthur's words.

"What then will you do with me now?"

"While I have no desire to execute you, I cannot overlook your part in the ambush and capture of my men," Arthur replied, and Sefa looked down at her hands remorsefully.

"I am very sorry for what happened to you all. I confess that I did pass crucial information to my father, but I swear, I did not realize how dangerous that information was until I heard that your party had been attacked. I very naively believed that no one would be hurt."

"We understand," Merlin offered when it became clear that Arthur was speechless. "You understand that we can't let you go."

Sefa's eyes widened. "Am I to be a prisoner then?"

"No," Arthur answered. "I plan to release you to the care of a druid tribe on our way back to Camelot, under the condition that you do not leave them for at least a year."

"Yes, please, I will stay with them," Sefa said earnestly. "I do not wish for anything more than to live the rest of my years in peace."

"Very well, then. Let's get Mordred and head out," Arthur commanded, drawing Sefa's gaze to the unconscious knight.

"Sir Mordred! Will he be alright?"

"We hope so," Merlin said.

"Morgana took him to the tower!" Sefa whispered fearfully. "She used mandrake roots, but I'm not entirely sure how."

"We know. We'll do all we can for him," the warlock assured her, and Sefa nodded gratefully, her eyes on Mordred's still form.

"How about a little help over here?" Percival asked, getting Merlin's attention and gesturing to Mordred's prone form. "We've no horses with us and it is a long walk back to the village."

Merlin nodded and helped Sefa to her feet before they and Arthur moved to join the cluster of knights. Kneeling down beside Mordred and murmuring a few words, Merlin's eyes shone gold, then he smiled at his friends.

"He is no heavier than a feather right now."

"Is that why your arms are the size of twigs? That's cheating," Arthur grumbled.

"No, it's intelligence. We'll work on that, for your sake," Merlin teased, much to the knights' amusement.

"You have magic!" Sefa exclaimed, looking at a sheepish Merlin in utter astonishment.

"Ah, yes. I do," Merlin admitted. Sefa looked between the warlock and the king standing beside one another for several seconds before her eyes widened and she gasped in sudden realization. Then she dropped to her knees.

"Forgive me, I have not lived amongst the Druids for many years, but I can see now that you are Emrys and the Great King."

"Please, stand up," Merlin asked, his face reddening at the knight's raised eyebrows as they looked between Merlin, Arthur and Sefa's kneeling form.

"So it would seem," Arthur said in acknowledgement, then looked at each of his men in turn. "Let's head out."

Percival immediately stepped in and slung the weightless, unconscious knight over his shoulder, his eyes wide at the complete ease with which he had done so.

"Handy stuff, this magic business," Gwaine chuckled again. Merlin laughed and shook his head before looking at Arthur.

"We're ready."

* * *

They made it back to the village just before nightfall and decided to sleep at their makeshift camp out in the neighboring field. Merlin was surprised to see Sefa settling in beside Mordred and helping the unconscious knight to swallow a few mouthfuls of broth before laying down to sleep beside him. When the young man showed signs of rousing, Merlin made sure to spell Mordred to sleep again, then joined the others at the fire.

The warlock smiled gratefully as Gwaine handed him a bowl of stew. Sitting down beside Arthur, Merlin tucked into the food ravenously. After a few moments of silence, Arthur asked a question that Merlin had not been expecting.

"Do you really know who your father was?"

"Excuse me?" Merlin asked, unsure that he had heard the king correctly.

"Last night, after that man called you a traitor, you told him that you understood his fear. You said that your father was running from mine. Do you know, then, who your father was?"

Merlin chuckled humorlessly.

"I do," he answered, noting the way the knights sat unobtrusively around them. "Gaius told me who he was just before we went to find him."

"_We_ went to find him?" Arthur asked in surprise. Merlin nodded.

"My father was Balinor, the dragonlord we sought to defeat the dragon. Gaius helped him escape the purge, and he took refuge with my mother for a time. He never knew I existed until we found him in that cave."

"The grumpy dragonlord was your father?!" Arthur asked, much to Merlin's amusement.

"Yes. After he died, his gift was passed on to me, which is how I can control and call upon Kilgharrah," Merlin confirmed.

"Yes, about that dragon," Arthur scowled. "You told me I killed it!"

Merlin scoffed. "You are such an arrogant clotpole! I've just told you who my father was, the man I knew for all of two days before he died in my arms, who _you_ told me wasn't worth my tears, and all you can think of is the dragon?!"

Arthur sat with a gobsmacked expression, surprised at Merlin's explosive reaction. Gwaine cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence, but none of the knights said anything further, still allowing the two of them the illusion of privacy.

"I am sorry I said that about your father," Arthur finally replied, causing Merlin's eyebrows to raise in surprise. "Though it wasn't as though I knew he was your father; I'm not entirely heartless."

"No, you didn't know. You couldn't know, not then."

"I'm still sorry," Arthur allowed, then his eyes narrowed. "Now, about the dragon..."

"What about him?" Merlin asked with false innocence, and just a bit of protectiveness.

"You released him, didn't you. That's why you kept apologizing night after night while he was attacking."

"I did," Merlin admitted, studying his boots for a moment. "I had made him a promise long before I actually released him that in exchange for his knowledge and assistance, I would free him."

"How could you possibly make such a bargain?!" Arthur growled. Merlin flinched slightly at the tone of the king's voice.

"I never meant to fulfill the promise when I made it."

"Then why did you? So many innocents died in his attacks. That Dragon was one of the worst disasters to strike Camelot!" The anguish in Arthur's voice and expression tore at Merlin's heart.

"Unfortunately Kilgharrah knew my intentions just as well as I. When Camelot was under the attack of the Knights of Medhir, he refused to tell me how to lift the sleeping spell. Gaius was asleep, and we were falling under the spell too quickly for me to research it, even if I could have gotten away from you and Morgana long enough to do so. The people and kingdom were already on the verge of death and destruction, so I had to promise on my mother's life that I would free Kilgharrah, if only he helped me save you and the kingdom from destruction."

"That must have been a difficult decision," Arthur murmured gruffly after a tense moment of silence.

"Yes, though not the hardest of that particular incident."

"What is harder than deciding to free a vengeful dragon on an innocent populace?!"

"Kilgharrah's knowledge came with a terrible price, yes. But then, so too had he paid a terrible price imprisoned as he was beneath the castle."

"What was this difficult decision then?" Arthur asked warily. Merlin's throat was suddenly tight with emotion; he looked down at his hands trying to stave off the tears that burned the back of his eyelids.

"To save Camelot, I would have to kill someone I considered a friend," he finally choked out.

"Morgana," Arthur said knowingly. Merlin nodded.

"But she obviously didn't die. What happened?"

"No, Morgana's weakened state was enough to break the spell over the city and then Morgause took her away in time to heal her."

"That is why she hates you so much?"

"Yes," Merlin whispered, his voice closing around the lump in his throat. Arthur nodded, staring sadly into the flames.

"It really was an impossible decision, wasn't it?!" Arthur finally managed. Merlin was somewhat taken aback at the anger in the king's voice, and he bit his cheek in an effort to remain silent. The warlock's heart quickened as his body tensed, waiting for the moment that Arthur decided that Merlin was just as evil as every other sorcerer he'd ever known.

"You chose to save the kingdom."

"I did," Merlin whispered.

"Yet you freed the dragon."

"Yes," Merlin confirmed once more.

"Did you think he would just fly off, never to be seen again? Were you so naively trusting then that you thought he would just thank you and be on his way?!"

"No, of course not. I feared Kilgharrah's retaliation when I let him go, but I hadn't any idea how potent his anger truly was."

"That was foolish. Dragons are senseless beasts."

"Don't say that to Kilgharrah, he would have to disagree."

"I suppose he did just save your life."

"Yes, he did."

"His one redeeming quality, it seems. Don't expect me to thank him anytime soon."

"I don't think he expects you to thank him," Merlin replied.

"I never even scratched him, did I?"

"You _did_ give him a wound, it just wasn't fatal."

"What made him stop?"

"I ordered him to."

"Just like that? Why didn't you do that the first night?! We went through three nights of hell!"

"I wasn't able to then, I wasn't a dragonlord yet."

"Yet?!"

"When my father was killed, I inherited the dragonlord gift," Merlin explained again. "It was only then that I was able to command Kilgharrah to cease his attacks on the city."

"Why did you let him live? He had killed so many," Arthur asked sadly.

"I had intended to kill him. I had the spear in my hand, ready to strike," Merlin said, falling silent as he avoided Arthur's eyes by staring into the flames.

"What stopped you?" Arthur prompted.

"He begged me not to kill the last of his kind. I was torn; he had been utterly terrifying in his anger, and I had been manipulated by him more than once, yet I still remembered the way he helped me and by extension, Camelot. He had been the first to tell me my destiny; why I am the way I am, the purpose for my gifts. I had also felt the deep kinship that came from the awakening of my dragonlord gift. I could sense that my soul was bound to his in brotherhood, and I could not kill him. I showed him mercy and he has since repaid me many times over."

"I suppose this assistance is otherwise impossible to come by?" Arthur asked.

"Yes. Camelot would have fallen long before you were ever crowned king except for the knowledge and advice he's given me over the years. We would never have made it out of Ealdor when the Southrons were on our trail if it weren't for his assistance. I would have died on at least two separate occasions, including last night, if not for his healing magic."

Arthur sobered at that thought, and the memory of being utterly helpless while Merlin bled out. Finally, the king nodded in acceptance of Merlin's words.

"What was it that horrified you so much after you healed Mordred?"

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, unsure of what Arthur was thinking.

"After you healed him, but before you put him to sleep. You looked horrified by something. What was it?"

Merlin put his empty bowl down on the ground beside him as he thought about how to answer in a way that the others could understand.

"I believe that Mordred has been cut off from his magic."

"So he's just the same as anybody else here," Arthur reasoned. "What is so bad about that?"

Merlin took a deep breath, thinking of how to respond.

"Surely you don't feel that you're superior to someone who has no magic?" Elyan asked as the knights finally joined the conversation. Elyan did not believe Merlin capable of such an attitude, but he was unsure of what Merlin was trying to say.

"No, it's pretty difficult to feel superior when most people hate what you are and fear the gifts you were born with and you go to sleep hungry on the dirt floor on a regular basis."

"What has that to do with what made you so horrified earlier," Arthur reasoned, bringing the warlock back on track. Then Merlin had an idea.

"You know that I am a warlock," Merlin began.

"Yes, though again, what has that got to do with my question?"

"Then you know that I was born with magic; I gave my mother a fright when I made things float over my cradle."

"Your _cradle_?" Leon asked incredulously.

"I've _never _known a time without magic," Merlin answered, nodding in confirmation to Leon. "It has always been with me, from before I could walk or talk. It is as natural to me as breathing, seeing, hearing, or touching is to any of you. To suddenly lose that would be like one of you losing your eyesight, or your hearing, or even a limb."

"Surely you could learn to live without it?" Percival asked, and Merlin shook his head instantly.

"My magic is a huge part of who and what I am. You lot are constantly saying how I've no sense of self-preservation-"

"You _don't_," everyone intoned together, causing Merlin to chuckle humorlessly.

"It's only because I've rarely ever been truly frightened by anything. I've _always _been able to magic my way out of sticky situations. The first time in my life that I felt true terror was when the Dorocha were unleashed."

"I remember that," Arthur broke in. "I remember thinking how unusual it was that you were so afraid of the dark."

"It's because my magic didn't work around them. I was powerless against the Dorocha, and it terrified me. To imagine feeling like that always, having no connection to my magic, it sends a shiver up my spine."

"What's your most impressive trick?" Gwaine asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"Trick?" Merlin asked incredulously. "I admitted to causing an earthquake earlier, and you think my magic is nothing but _tricks_?!"

"That's how you juggled!" Arthur exclaimed, pointing triumphantly at his advisor. "I _knew _you couldn't catch anything for the life of you!"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well spotted, Arthur," he said dryly.

"Well come on, show us your best trick!" Gwaine said again. "We've no mead with us, we may as well have a little entertainment."

"Entertainment?!" Merlin asked, laughing exasperatedly at his friend's enthusiasm. "How is it that I'm promoted and I still end up as the entertainment?"

"Just show us something!" Gwaine pestered.

"Surely you could show him one thing just to make him shut up," Arthur reasoned, raising a pleading eyebrow in the warlock's direction. Merlin smiled, nodding his head.

"I may have just the thing," Merlin said, stopping time and positioning himself behind Gwaine before allowing time to resume.

"Where did he-" Gwaine began, looking around the circle in surprise.

"BOO!" Merlin yelled, causing the knight to startle. However, before the knight could turn around, Merlin froze time again, moving then to get a bucket of water before releasing time to flow normally.

"- go?" Gwaine finished, though he was alarmed when everyone smiled and tried to stifle their laughter.

"Gwaine, look behind you," Arthur finally managed. The knight turned around, wary about what had the others laughing. Merlin was standing there, the bucket in his hands and a wicked smile upon his lips.

"Catch!" the warlock called out, then he threw the water at Gwaine, who closed his eyes and ducked in preparation for the soaking. When Gwaine felt no water, but heard plenty of laughter, he chanced a look in Merlin's direction.

Gwaine could only describe the sight as awesome. Merlin stood there, his impish smile firmly in place, his hand outstretched towards the water, which was frozen in mid-air on its path towards the knight.

"Is it _solid_?" Gwaine asked incredulously, reaching a hand out to touch the closest water droplets. In that moment, Merlin chuckled, causing Gwaine to look at the warlock in alarm just as Merlin released his hold on the water.

Fingers still extended to touch the water that now thoroughly soaked him, Gwaine spat out a mouthful, and began chuckling as well.

"Merlin?" he asked, wiping ineffectually at his chainmail. "Help me out? I'm going to rust."

Taking pity on the wet knight, Merlin calmed his laughter enough to hold a hand in Gwaine's direction and said, "_Drugunge_."

Instantly, the water evaporated, leaving Gwaine dry and rather cleaner than he was before.

"I'll never call them tricks again," Gwaine chuckled, settling back down on his seat.

"And I'll try not to ever throw water over you again," Merlin answered as he too sat down again.

"Don't be so hasty in that promise, Merlin. I think you've improved him," Elyan chuckled.

"Hey!" Gwaine protested.

"Sorry, Gwaine, but I agree with Elyan. I can't say that you don't smell a right bit better now," Percival argued, causing Gwaine to throw a dirt clod at the large knight.

"How did you learn to do that?" Leon asked in awe a moment later, ignoring the juvenile antics of the others.

"Which bit of it?" Merlin asked.

"All of it," Arthur interjected. "You just disappeared, there was no wind or anything like I've seen when other sorcerers have transported themselves. And the water... that was incredible."

"There was no wind because I _didn't _transport myself," Merlin said simply.

"But you disappeared! In the blink of an eye!" Gwaine argued, giving up on his revenge on Percival and Elyan.

"No, actually, I didn't. You just thought I did, because I froze time around you, like I froze the time around the water."

Dead silence met Merlin's words as everyone looked at him in utter shock.

"You _froze time_?!" Arthur asked incredulously. Merlin nodded, shrugging.

"But you spoke no words," Leon said wondrously.

"I've never needed words to do that, I've been doing that since I was this high," Merlin said, holding a hand about waist height. "Drove my mother completely mad, though."

"I can't imagine why," Arthur said sarcastically. Gwaine began laughing a deep, resonating chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Elyan asked.

"I've just imagined Merlin with a whole little passel of dark-haired children, freezing them in place if they don't behave!"

Everyone joined in with the knight's mirthful laughter, except for one red-faced warlock.

"Of course, there's always the possibility that they'll take after their father, rather than their mother, and Merlin will be the one frozen," Leon mused. The flush completely faded from Merlin's face then as his complexion paled at the thought.

"I suddenly regret all the difficulties I put my mother through," Merlin said wryly, setting everyone off again. Though after a few minutes, Arthur calmed them all.

"We should get some rest. We've got a long journey ahead of us tomorrow, and I for one, would like to be back in Camelot before dark."

"Back in Guinevere's arms, you mean," Merlin teased.

"Just like you're anxious to be back in Mithian's," Arthur retorted.

Merlin didn't say anything to that; he had to admit, Arthur had him there.

* * *

The king's party rode towards Camelot at first light, though they made a slight detour at midday to rendezvous with a Druid tribe recently encamped in the area.

Arthur, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan were startled when they were suddenly surrounded by several Druids clad in green robes. Arthur and Merlin both dismounted and moved towards the grey-haired elder that they recognised as Iseldir.

"How can we be of assistance?" the chieftain said aloud, looking at Merlin curiously and projecting, _The Fates have been whispering, Emrys."_

Merlin nodded once, acknowledging the thought. "We come before you as the Once and Future King and Emrys."

Iseldir's composure faltered for just a moment as his expression morphed from surprise to relief to elation. He finally took a deep breath and looked at Arthur in askance.

"I have a humble request of your tribe," Arthur began, looking back at Sefa, who slid down from her place behind Elyan and moved to stand just behind Merlin and Arthur. "This is Sefa. She was found guilty of treason, though due to the circumstances surrounding the incident, I am unwilling to sentence her to death. I would humbly request that she be allowed to join your camp for the duration of one year, at the very least. Where she goes after that is of no concern to me."

Iseldir smiled proudly at Arthur and nodded his approval. "We are happy to take her in."

"Thank you," Arthur said. Merlin gave a nod of respect to Iseldir, who returned the gesture before turning to Sefa and holding his arm to her in invitation.

"Come child, we will find a place for you among us," he said, and Sefa smiled, moving towards the Druid elder gratefully. Arthur and the knights were amazed at how swiftly the Druids disappeared back into the trees. Merlin could not help but smile though, when one last thought entered his mind.

_Well done, Emrys._

* * *

Even with the slight detour, they managed to make it back to Camelot in the late afternoon. Several knights that had stayed behind met them in the courtyard to carry Mordred into Gaius' chambers. The saddle-weary king and his men were just handing off the reins of their exhausted mounts when Guinevere and Mithian came rushing out of the castle.

"Merlin!" Mithian called out in obvious relief, running down the stairs as quickly as she could. Merlin rushed around the horses and servants and the knights in his way as he moved to meet his wife.

"Mithian!" Merlin exclaimed as the princess barreled into his chest and held tightly to him. Without a thought for propriety or decorum, Mithian grabbed Merlin's face and kissed him with all the passion in her heart. The both of them were lost in the kiss until the applause and whoops from the knights broke them apart. Merlin pressed his forehead to Mithian's as they caught their breath.

"What on earth happened to you?!" she asked, her voice small and frightened.

"Nothing," Merlin insisted, wanting to eliminate the fear his wife felt. "I'm just fine."

"No you weren't! Two nights ago, something happened to you, I know it!" Mithian finally pulled back and looked Merlin up and down. Then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in horror when she saw what she hadn't been able to see from a distance.

The deep red color of Merlin's tunic managed to mask the worst of the blood stain until it was studied closely. Of course, there was also the arrow-hole in his shirt as well. Mithian brushed her fingers searchingly over the hole, then looked up into Merlin's eyes beseechingly.

"You were _shot_?!" she gasped in shock, not caring that they were in the courtyard in full view of everyone when she began to lift Merlin's shirt to inspect what damage was still visible. Arthur would have laughed at the sight if he hadn't had a vivid memory of Merlin pale, in shock, and panting in pain from that particular wound.

Only a pink, slightly puckered scar remained after Kilgharrah's spell, and Mithian brushed her fingers over it gingerly. The princess studied the new blemish for nearly a full minute before allowing a red-faced Merlin to put his shirt back down.

"You were dying," Mithian whispered, her heart in her throat.

"But I'm still here," Merlin said comfortingly. Mithian let out a half-stifled sob and threw herself back into Merlin's chest, only relaxing when his long arms wrapped around her and his warm touch confirmed that he was really there, holding her tight.

"I felt it, you know," Mithian whispered. "That night, I was lying in bed when I felt this horrible, oppressive sense of dread. I was sobbing, but I didn't know why, except that it was something to do with _you_, Merlin. I could hardly catch my breath, and then I felt such pain. I feared that I had lost you. I paced our chamber all night long, until morning came and I suddenly felt you were alright."

Merlin was utterly stunned. He'd had no idea that Mithian would be able to sense such things. Perhaps Gaius could tell him if this was something common to married couples or if it was something that was yet again unique to him.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered, cradling Mithian's face in his hands and kissing her again.

"If you're about done, we're meeting in Gaius' chambers. We've got much to discuss," Arthur said, pulling Merlin and Mithian from their bubble. "We need to get to the bottom of this curse Mordred is under, this Teine Diaga."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **


	12. Searching for a Cure

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thank you once again for all of your fabulous reviews. They make me happy:) This chapter was fun to write.**

* * *

**Searching for a Cure**

Gaius was surprised when his door burst open and an unconscious Mordred was carried in on the shoulders of four knights. The physician scrambled to straighten the patient's bed for the young knight to be laid upon, grateful that he had just that morning allowed Sir Caridoc to be moved to his own rooms to recuperate.

"What are his injuries?" Gaius asked after the knights laid Mordred down. He was unable to readily ascertain what was the matter with the unconscious man. He had good coloring, easy breathing, steady pulse, no fever and only one area of his clothing bore signs of an injury. Upon further inspection, though, Gaius could find no evidence of a wound. He could, however, sense Merlin's rather distinctive magical signature. What Merlin had been thinking, using magic to heal such a wound whilst on a quest with the King, Gaius couldn't fathom. Yet again the physician wondered how his ward still had a head on his shoulders.

With no forthcoming answer from the gathered knights, Gaius looked up at them questioningly. The men looked to one another searchingly, then the most senior of them merely shrugged his shoulders, much to the elderly man's annoyance.

"We know only that the king was insistent that Sir Mordred remain unconscious," the knight answered. Gaius raised an eyebrow incredulously. That was no help at all; was he a physician or a nursemaid, Gaius wondered dryly.

"You may go," the physician replied, dismissing the knights with an irritated wave of his hand. He had no need of watchful eyes while he did things that could potentially be described as illegal. Once they had cleared the room, Gaius got to work, rolling Mordred onto his side and inspecting the healed injury once more. Merlin's healing spells were certainly improving, Gaius mused, pleased to see the pink line of scar tissue fully intact and well-knitted. Laying the young knight back down, Gaius pressed a hand to Mordred's forehead, closing his eyes and reaching out to study the magical residues on the boy.

It was a certain aspect of magic that, while he had some natural talent in, he had spent a significant number of years developing. Being able to instinctively sense whether there was an enchantment on any particular item or person was a valuable skill for a physician, especially one who was forced to use magic on the sly.

Gaius chuckled to himself as he identified Merlin's unique signature again and again. The young warlock had healed the boy surely enough, but he'd also kept the knight unconscious through repeated application of a sleeping spell. Gaius frowned then as he probed deeper, searching beyond Merlin's light, impishly playful magical residue and finding a terrible shadow over Mordred's mind. The physician tore his hand away and gasped at the twisted feel of it. The signature was not an unfamiliar one, but it was one that broke his heart to feel tainted as it was by such darkness.

_Morgana_.

Feeling her aura, so black and twisted, beside Merlin's light and playful one, left Gaius with a sense of utter sadness. Not for the first time, the elderly man felt a feeling of utter failure. He sat heavily beside the patient's cot, his eyes burning as he attempted to keep his tears at bay. He'd foolishly tried for so long to shield Morgana from such influences by keeping her ignorant to the power that was inherent in her. Only now did Gaius truly understand what the cost of that sheltering had been. Merlin truly was the light to Morgana's darkness; sensing their signatures side by side had made Gaius realize that the dragon's words were never more true.

The longer Gaius pondered the conflicting magical signatures, the more he realized that Mordred's own had seemed hidden. Reaching out again, Gaius placed his hand over his patient's brow, closing his eyes against the feeling of failure that flared when he brushed past Morgana's shadow upon the lad. He probed deeper and deeper, his brow furrowing further with every second he spent searching.

There was very little of the young man's personality left, much as Merlin's sense of duty and identity had been buried under the black effects of the formorroh. Gaius searched his memory, recalling a tutor he'd had many years before on the Isle of the Blessed. This particular mentor had described several different forms of control that were used by the High Priestesses who had allowed their power to corrupt them. Among the methods were certain rituals using mandrake roots.

"And we've already seen _Morgause's _fondness for that particular plant. No doubt she taught her _sister _all of its varied uses," Gaius murmured angrily to himself, turning around to seek a book that he knew was around his cluttered stacks somewhere.

Just as he found the tome on the highest, most tucked-away shelf, the door to his chambers was flung open and Arthur entered with Guinevere, his round table knights, Merlin and Mithian on his heels. Gaius hurriedly tucked the blatantly magical book in his hands back into the crevice he'd found it crammed into and made his way down the rickety steps.

"Make sure that door is locked," Arthur ordered once everyone was inside. Merlin nodded and was swift to comply.

"What is going _on_?" Gaius demanded when he finally made it down to the ground. "You've all come in here like the secret to life is about to be revealed! You've sent me an unconscious man who has not got so much as a scratch with no explanation other than to keep him asleep!" Gaius looked meaningfully at Merlin as he mentioned the sleeping patient, a gesture the king did not miss. "Do you take me for a nursemaid, Sire?

"Of course not," Arthur assured. "It is a rather long and interesting story, Gaius. Complicated, one might say. You see, we've had some rather startling revelations in the last few days, but I'm fairly sure that _you _will not be so shocked as we were," Arthur said shrewdly.

"Arthur?" Guinevere asked, just as confused as Gaius was.

"I think you especially will understand how very shocked I was, Guinevere, to discover that my First Advisor has been keeping a very big secret," Arthur began. "One that I really ought to have realized a long time ago, seeing as it has been staring me in the face ever since Merlin walked into Camelot."

Gaius' withered face instantly paled and he sat at his work bench heavily. The physician's eyes traveled from face to face around the room, finally settling on his ward's with an anguished expression.

"I am sorry you have been left in the dark so long, Sire," Gaius finally said. "But you must understand, I only wanted to protect him."

Gwen only looked more confused. Mithian, however, boldly stepped in front of her husband, sheltering him with her body. Her eyes roved the room determinedly, as though daring anyone to attempt to lay a hand on Merlin. Gwen did not miss the princess' actions, though neither did she understand them.

"Arthur, please just tell me what's going on," the queen said, growing frustrated at the realization that she seemed to be the only one in still in the dark.

"He's trying to make _me _say it, Gwen. It's only right that I should be the one to tell you," Merlin explained. Mithian held her breath, waiting for the proverbial axe to fall.

"Tell me what?" Guinevere said, laughing in breathless exasperation. Merlin took a deep breath, preparing himself.

"I have magic," he blurted out quickly, as though the words did not want to leave his mouth.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed out of habit, his eyes sweeping the room for any objections. Mithian, too, eyed each of the knights and the king and queen in turn. As she waited for their reaction, she stepped back even further, pressing her back into Merlin's chest and gripping the fabric of his tunic as though he would run away if she released him.

"It's alright, Gaius, everyone here knows now," Merlin murmured, his eyes never leaving the queen's.

"_Merlin_?" Gwen asked, completely taken aback. "_Magic_?"

The warlock nodded. "I always have."

"Even when we first met?" the queen asked Merlin, narrowing her eyes as their first meeting ran through her head. "_That's_ why you said you were in disguise?"

Merlin chuckled nervously, nodding in confirmation. Gwen looked at Merlin dubiously, wondering if Arthur and Merlin were trying to trick her for some reason. Recognizing Guinevere's expression for what it was, Merlin held out his hand, to prove to the queen that he was telling the truth. Wordlessly, he conjured a glowing orb in his palm. The swirling ball of light shifted through every color imaginable.

"It's _beautiful_," Gwen breathed, transfixed by the sight of it even as Arthur's mouth went dry.

"Go back," he ordered, though Merlin looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Go back, make it blue again," Arthur ordered impatiently. Merlin's brow furrowed, but he looked down at the little orb in his hand and concentrated, turning it a dark blue.

"No, that's too dark, make it lighter. Almost white, but still blue."

Merlin concentrated again and gradually the blue ball pulsated and shone with a familiar white-blue light. Arthur's face shifted through a series of emotions that Merlin had rarely ever seen the king show in private, let alone to a room full of people.

"That was _you_?! How?" Arthur asked shakily. Merlin only looked confused.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, unsure of how the rather unassuming ball of light had affected Arthur so significantly.

"I watched him conjure it while fevered under the poison. He spoke aloud as though he could see you. It was remarkable," Gaius confirmed, shocking both king and warlock.

"Then it wasn't gibberish he was speaking?!" Gwen asked, remembering the strange words Merlin had uttered as he struggled under the poison. Gaius looked sheepishly at the queen.

"No, it was in fact the Old Tongue," the physician admitted.

"You were _dying_, Merlin. Poisoned, lying there in that bed," Arthur said in a daze, pointing to the patient's cot. "And yet you _still _managed to save my life?"

Merlin shrugged, honestly not remembering a moment of what they were speaking of.

"Poisoned? _Dying_?!" Mithian asked, looking at Merlin questioningly.

"I don't really remember much of that incident," he admitted.

"When you were drunk a few weeks ago, you said that _something _strange had happened a long time ago, but that it was alright because you had just died," Mithian said, her eyes pointedly flicking over to Guinevere for just a moment. "Just how many times have you nearly died?!"

"Er..." Merlin hesitated. "Maybe two or three times?"

"A year," Arthur filled in.

"No, a half-year," Gaius interjected wryly.

"That is not true!" Merlin protested exasperatedly.

"You said yourself you would have died at least two times without the dragon's intervention," Arthur reasoned. "Then there's the poisoning-"

"Technically he _did_ die then, his heart stopped and he wasn't breathing for a moment before the antidote finally did the job," Gaius interjected.

"Don't forget the Dorocha," Gwaine added.

"Or the mace wound to the chest when he was kidnapped by the bandits in the Valley of the Fallen Kings," Percival chimed in.

"Wait, wait wait," Merlin interrupted. "How exactly did this turn into pick on Merlin time?"

"When _isn't _it pick on Merlin time?" Arthur asked playfully, though Merlin narrowed his eyes and huffed at the king.

"You're conveniently forgetting all the times _you've _been seriously injured or nearly killed," Merlin protested, holding up his hands as he began to tick them off. "Vengeful witches, the afanc, the griffin, Sophia, the questing beast, the troll, the dragon, the goblin, bandits, immortal armies, poisoned arrows, love spells, I don't have enough fingers to count them all! It's a wonder you've any brains left with as many times as you've been cracked over the head and knocked unconscious! How else do you think I've gotten away with so much magic over the years?! I was nearly always able to wait until whatever you were fighting knocked you out so that I could step in and finish them off. I've been doing it under your nose since the moment we met! I'm actually not very surprised that it took you this long to put two and two together! Maybe those knocks to the head did more than I thought!" Merlin ranted, though Arthur looked increasingly indignant with each word Merlin uttered.

"Are you quite finished?" Arthur asked, glaring at Gwaine and Percival when the two of them failed to hide their snickering successfully.

"Merlin, mate, I've never seen you so riled," Gwaine snorted.

"It has been known to happen on occasion," Gaius said with mock solemnity, giving Merlin an innocently uplifted eyebrow when the warlock narrowed his eyes at his surrogate father.

"I'm guessing this particular quest was very eye-opening?" Guinevere asked. Although there was definitely more openness between Merlin and Arthur, they were every bit as antagonistic towards one another as they were before. Arthur sighed, sobering as he turned to his wife.

"It really is a very long story, Guinevere, but suffice it to say, my opinion of magic has changed. Rather drastically, one might say. I now believe that, as Merlin told me a few nights ago, there is a place for magic in Camelot so long as it is used for the right purposes."

At the king's words, Gaius put his face in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees, a great burden lifting from his aged shoulders. He nearly wept for the joy of it when he looked towards his foster son and saw the happiness and relief on Merlin's face as the warlock and princess looked at one another tenderly.

"For what purpose is magic to be used, then?" Gwen asked, looking at her friend questioningly. Merlin broke away from his wife's gaze and smiled tentatively at Gwen, hoping that she would be just as open to the idea as Arthur had been.

"It has long been my privilege to help Arthur in realizing his destiny to unite Albion," Merlin said, his voice straining past the lump in his throat. His utter relief and gratitude overwhelmed the warlock, leaving him unable to say more. Arthur smiled comfortingly at Guinevere and took over when he saw that Merlin could not explain any further.

"Surprisingly enough, as it turns out, Guinevere, _Mer_lin has been _protecting _me and Camelot with his magic since he first arrived," he said, then the king looked straight into Merlin's eyes, though he still addressed Guinevere. "Magic can be used for good; I have seen it heal two otherwise doomed men and I'm sure that Gaius and Merlin could tell us of many other beneficial uses of their gifts. I have no quarrel with Merlin for his magic and someday soon, I hope to make it possible for Merlin and others like him to live in Camelot without fear."

Merlin nodded gratefully at his friend and king; Arthur returned the gesture and turned back to his wife. Guinevere smiled at her husband before moving into his arms and hugging him proudly. Then Gwen looked over at her best friend and smiled at the sight of Merlin's obvious emotional state. The thin man was looking into Mithian's eyes again, unshed tears welling up and threatening to spill over as the both of them chuckled and wiped at one another's grateful tears in unspoken relief. Then Mithian grabbed Merlin in an ecstatic embrace, kissing him with utter abandon as her euphoria at Merlin's new-found freedom replaced her worry and alarm.

Gaius smiled proudly and pointedly looked away from the man he saw as his son, until things began to rattle on the table.

"_Merlin_," the physician said warningly, holding a steadying hand out to his fragile equipment.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, pressing his forehead to Mithian's and closing his eyes to steady himself. The vibrating jars and rattling vials stilled once more.

"Merlin having magic is obviously _not _a surprise for Mithian. She's an experienced hand at magic by now, including quakes, tremors and all manner of strange occurrences," Gwaine said rakishly, breaking a blushing Merlin and Mithian apart as the other knights chuckled at their expense. Arthur cleared his throat, calming the humor and lightheartedness of those gathered.

"Unfortunately, we have other pressing matters at hand," Arthur said, looking sadly at Mordred. "Gaius? What do you know about the Teine Diaga?"

Gaius' eyes widened and he looked ruefully up at the shelf he'd just tucked his book away in.

"It's interesting that you should ask that, Sire. Before you entered, I was searching for a book that would help us understand mandrakes and their uses better. It's just up there," Gaius said, pointing to the stairway and standing up to retrieve it.

"Gaius, which book is it?" Merlin asked before his elderly mentor could take a step.

"It's a small book of magic that has a comprehensive section on mandrake roots. The _Láre Stæfa Léactún_, Merlin. It's tucked up on the highest shelf in a small crevice, you'll have to-"

Gaius went silent and sighed in irritation when Merlin merely held out a hand and called, "_Cume oþ mec Láre Stæfa Léactún."_

The book instantly flew into Merlin's outstretched hand and the warlock held it out in front of him. He said nothing, but his eyes flashed and the book opened upon his upturned palms, the pages flying rapidly until it fell on a certain page. Merlin scanned it quickly, screwing up his face in frustration and shaking his head. With another flash of his eyes, the pages flew once again before settling on another section further into the book.

"That's not it either, though I'll _definitely _have to come back to _that _and read it a little closer," Merlin muttered to himself as he marked the page, unaware that Arthur was looking at him with the same befuddled expression he'd had when the king had seen Merlin juggle for the first time. Mithian was smiling in amusement at her husband and his boyish enthusiasm as he scanned through more of the text, the pages flying by as he willed the book to show him what he was searching for.

"Here!" Merlin exclaimed, pointing excitedly to a spot on the page and looking up at those gathered in the room, noticing their astonishment for the first time. "What?" he asked, eyeing their stunned faces in confusion.

"I don't feel so bad for you anymore, having to do _so much _research for Gaius, and all," Gwaine said, the other knights nodding in agreement.

"The Teine Diaga," Merlin said, ignoring Gwaine's chuckles. "It is very similar to the formorroh, actually," the warlock mused, moving to show the page to Gaius.

"Yes, so it would seem," the physician agreed, looking over at Mordred regretfully before rising to scan the page for himself. "But there's no mother beast to slay in this particular situation, so how do we _reverse _it?"

"Formorroh? Isn't that what you called that snake in Merlin's neck?" Gwen asked, her eyes widening worriedly.

"Snake in his _neck_?!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Another long story," Merlin muttered, still reading over the page in his hands. "Morgana was trying to control me, but don't worry, we took care of it."

Arthur looked at Merlin in astonishment.

"And Guinevere knew about it?!"

"It was before we were married, when Merlin went missing those few days before you found him in the bog," Gwen answered.

"It sounds as though there are a _lot _of long stories that will someday need to be told," the king said firmly.

"Someday," Merlin agreed, and then held the book out to Gaius. "This book describes the Teine Diaga as a dark ritual using mandrake roots, but there's nothing here about how to break such an enchantment."

"In many dark enchantments such as this, the one who is afflicted must be cleansed through a healing ritual," Gaius offered.

"Cleansed? The dryad we met-" Merlin began.

"Dryad?!" Gaius exclaimed. "You met a _Dryad_? And it spoke to you?"

"Yes, it was quite fascinating actually, I was able to help heal her-"

"_Back_ to the topic at hand," Arthur interrupted, causing Gaius to look at Merlin significantly.

"You _will_ tell me later," the physician insisted, smiling when Merlin nodded happily and resumed his story.

"Lowri, the dryad, said we needed powerful healing waters," Merlin explained.

"Healing waters?" Gaius asked, his brow furrowing as he scoured his memory for such places.

"Yes, that's what she said. Do you know of such a place?" Merlin asked.

"The Lake of Avalon is said to hold _immense_ healing powers, but you would have to bargain with the Sidhe," Gaius said.

"Even if we're quite friendly with the _Lady _of the Lake?" Merlin asked, causing Gaius to raise an eyebrow. The physician realized then that marrying Mithian must have healed Merlin's long-held heartache over the cursed druid girl. As a rule, Merlin rarely mentioned the young woman now bound to the Lake of Avalon, let alone knowing her in front of so many.

"I'm afraid that it is the _Sidhe _who hold the healing power there. From what you've told me, the Lady of the Lake is merely the gatekeeper to the realm of Avalon. She unfortunately would have little influence over who the Sidhe deigned to heal."

Merlin frowned in consternation.

"I doubt the Sidhe would work with me, considering I blew up one of their elders and ruined their plans with the changeling the last time I interacted with them," Merlin said.

"_Blew up_ an elder?" Arthur asked incredulously. Merlin winced at the king's tone.

"To be fair, said elder _was _trying to do the same to Merlin," Gaius interjected, though Merlin turned to look solemnly at Arthur.

"It's a long story, but the short of it is that if I hadn't, you'd have married Princess Elena and she wouldn't have been your bride for long before she was overtaken by the Sidhe within her in order to kill you for the throne."

"_What?!_" Arthur asked, his voice rising at least half an octave. "There's a Sidhe in Princess Elena?!"

"I told you, it's a long story," Merlin answered, turning back to the book he was leafing through. "But don't worry, Gaius and I got the Sidhe out of her. Elena's just fine, now."

Arthur's mouth gaped open at Merlin's casual reassurance.

"So Avalon is out of the question. What other healing waters are there?" Mithian asked, pulling them back on track. Gaius pursed his lips in thought.

"I'm sure I've got a book somewhere describing such places," the physician said, looking around at the various cluttered shelves around the room. Merlin scanned the room as well before holding out his hand.

"_Cume oþ mec bócum of cýþþe gehælednesum æwielmum!"_

Nearly two-dozen books instantly flew from various places around the room, hurtling towards Merlin. The warlock quickly held up a fist, halting the books in mid-air before directing them with a gesture to land in three relatively neat stacks on Gaius' work surface.

"I hope you weren't too general with that," Gaius said, the both of them immediately setting upon the piles and falling easily into their much-practiced routine as though they didn't have a gobsmacked audience watching.

"Well, it's better than the time I asked for books covering love spells, that was a disaster," Merlin muttered.

"Yes, that was rather humorous," Gaius chuckled, combing through the first book he had grabbed before hurriedly putting it aside.

"Can we help?" Mithian asked, coming beside them and looking down at the dusty texts. Gwen, Arthur and the knights all crowded around the warlock and the physician, offering their assistance as well by taking a book and gingerly opening them.

Merlin said nothing, but continued magically flipping through his book with an anticipatory grin on his face. A second later he was rewarded.

"What language is this? It looks like a bunch of gibberish," Arthur complained.

"So does this one," Gwaine added. The expected chorus of agreement sounded around the table. Merlin looked over at the king's book and winced dramatically.

"Bad luck, Arthur, you've gotten the Goblin text. Nasty one that is, it took me six months to figure out what it said."

"Are you telling me that _you _can _read _this?" Arthur asked, looking incredulously between the book and the warlock. Merlin shrugged.

"A bit."

"You needn't concern yourself with that one, Sire," Gaius said as he searched through a book of his own. "If it is in Goblin, it is probably a way to put a _curse _on healing waters."

"That is true," Merlin nodded, putting his book aside and pulling another one out to flip through with magic. Arthur sighed in exasperation and dropped the book back onto the table before reaching for another.

"What's this one then?" Gwaine asked, holding out his book.

"Ah, that's the old tongue," Merlin answered, looking at the book in the knight's hands and flipping through it with a flare of his eyes. Gwaine nearly dropped it when it began moving on its own, but Merlin set aside his own book and grabbed Gwaine's when he saw a brief mention worth investigating.

"Did you find something?" Arthur asked, noticing Merlin's enthusiasm.

"Gaius? What do you know about the Cauldron of Arianrhod?" Merlin asked.

"The Cauldron! Of course! I've not heard its mention in many years. I had forgotten it existed."

"Care to tell us, then?" Arthur asked. Gaius fixed the king with a look that said, _I would, if you would stop interrupting me. _Arthur had the grace to look apologetic and gestured wordlessly for Gaius to continue.

"It was said to be the dwelling place of the White Goddess. Supposedly, it is a place of healing. That may be just what we're looking for," Gaius answered, moving beside Merlin and reading over the warlock's shoulder.

"Now we just need to know what exactly needs to be done to break the Teine Diaga," Merlin said. Gaius moved around the worktable and studied the spines of several books on a low shelf before scowling and moving to another.

"I am afraid my copies of any text that would help us were seized many years ago. We should go see Geoffrey," Gaius said, though Merlin groaned.

"What are the chances that even he would still possess a book that could explain how to reverse such a dark magical ritual?"

"I see your point. It is rather unlikely. Perhaps you'd best, ah, talk to a _source _more knowledgeable?" Gaius said evasively.

"It's alright, Gaius, they know about the dragon."

"What?!_ I_ don't know about the dragon!" Gwen protested.

"Ah, yes, that was our other great surprise, Guinevere. Merlin, amazingly enough, is also a dragonlord. He called the beast to heal him after managing to get himself shot by a crossbow bolt," Arthur explained.

"_Shot by a crossbow bolt?!_" Gaius exclaimed, marching back over to his foster-son. "Where? Show me."

"Gaius, it's nothing, I'm fine, Kilgharrah healed me," Merlin argued, but Mithian stepped aside and pointed to the hole in Merlin's shirt that was still crusted over with dried blood.

"You mean to tell me that isn't Mordred's blood?! Merlin! That is a _lot _of blood! It's no wonder you're so pale, sit down right this instant, I'm going to get you a restorative draught."

Merlin's face fell at the prospect of one of Gaius' tonics.

"Honestly, Gaius, I'm fine, I don't need anything."

"You will sit down and you will take this or I'll make everyone of the knights in this room hold you down."

"As if they could hold me," Merlin argued. Gaius turned back to his former ward and raised his eyebrow in the way that only Gaius could.

"Fine," Merlin grumbled taking a seat beside Gaius' table and scowling at the snickers and chuckles that the knights and Arthur were rather ineffective at suppressing.

"We need time to rest and prepare to take the journey to wherever this Cauldron is," Arthur said, sobering everyone instantly. "You have two days to figure out how to remove this curse on Mordred."

"We can't keep him asleep for that long," Gaius protested. Arthur frowned in thought.

"I am fairly certain that he can't use his magic. We could keep him confined to his quarters until we know what to do," Merlin suggested.

"Leon, can you arrange that?" Arthur asked, and then looked at the other knights. "Take it in turns among the four of you to guard his door."

Percival moved forward and slung Mordred over his shoulder once more.

"He'll probably wake up on his own in an hour or two," Merlin said, looking ruefully out the window at the rapidly darkening sky.

"And _you _should go rest," Gaius insisted as he handed Merlin his restorative draught while giving him a stern look. Merlin was tempted to protest, but the expression on Mithian's face silenced him.

"Rest it is, then," the warlock conceded, gulping the foul tasting potion in one go and grimacing at the aftertaste. Though Merlin wanted to object on a matter of principle, he had to admit, a bed sounded pretty good right about then.

* * *

Gwen had known for many years that there was more to Merlin than his clumsy nature and sharp retorts let on. She had often seen the wisdom behind the thin man's advice to Arthur and there was no mistaking the shrewd look in Merlin's eyes. Nor the burdened expression the young man wore when he thought no one was looking. But Gwen had been paying attention, or so she had thought.

It was mainly for those reasons that Guinevere had not been surprised by Rodor's offer of Mithian's hand to the then manservant. Since his official appointment as Arthur's first advisor, Merlin had only grown stronger in each of those qualities that recommended him for the position. Gwen had mentioned to Mithian just a week previous that it seemed that Merlin had been born to be at Arthur's right hand. Mithian's knowing smile and wistful agreement certainly made more sense now, what with the evening's revelations.

_Magic_.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" Arthur asked, weaving his fingers through hers as they entered the corridor outside their rooms.

"It is quite shocking, isn't it?" Gwen mused, lowering her voice to the smallest whisper. "Though to be honest, I feel rather foolish for not having realized years ago that Merlin was a sorcerer."

"I thought the same," Arthur admitted softly, guiding Guinevere into their chambers and shutting the door tightly behind them. "Especially when I recalled how he admitted to being the sorcerer who healed your father of the water-plague."

"He did do that, didn't he?" Gwen said, laughing humorlessly. "All the handmaids were in a dither over it for a month; everyone thought that Merlin and I were courting."

"They did?!" Arthur asked in surprise.

"_You _were the one who told everyone that Merlin was a fool in love with me," Gwen argued. Arthur grimaced.

"I did, didn't I?"

"You did," Gwen agreed, smiling at Arthur demurely.

"Then I'm _very _glad that Merlin was just a fool, and not a fool in love," Arthur murmured, leaning closer to Guinevere's waiting lips and claiming them with his own.

"Let's not talk about Merlin any more right now," Gwen chuckled, guiding Arthur deeper into their chambers and their waiting bed.

"Who?" Arthur asked playfully. Guinevere smiled, playing along as Arthur leaned in for another kiss.

"I've no idea."

* * *

Merlin was grateful that, despite the fact that Gaius insisted the warlock rest, the physician hadn't slipped a sedative into the restorative draught. Mithian walked wordlessly beside him as they made their way to their chambers, both of her hands tucked around his arm as though she was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. Slipping silently into their chambers, Merlin raised an eyebrow when Mithian latched the door shut and immediately turned the key in the lock.

"I'm sure no one is going to disturb us," Merlin chuckled, though his humor faded when he saw the anxiousness on Mithian's face. "Are you alright?" he murmured softly, rubbing the backs of his fingers across the apple of her cheek. Mithian leaned into the touch, then grabbed his hand pressed her lips to his palm.

"I almost lost you," Mithian whispered, looking up into Merlin's eyes as tears welled in her own.

"Hey, hey, hey," Merlin whispered, pulling his wife into his chest as she tried to swallow a sob. "I'm still here, I'm alrig-"

Merlin's words were cut off as Mithian's lips crashed onto his, her anxiousness fueling her desire. Merlin pulled away and looked firmly into Mithian's eyes once more.

"I was caught off guard with the arrow," Merlin said. "I've not been injured nearly as many times as Arthur would have you believe. Not _half _as many as his royal dollop-head has been."

Mithian laughed, despite the tears that were now spilling down her cheeks.

"Honestly, I'll be fine. You don't need to worry so much about me," Merlin reassured her.

"I will always worry about you, Merlin. That's what women do for the men they love."

"As long as I can worry about you too," Merlin chuckled, and Mithian kissed him again. This time, Merlin did not pull away; instead he pulled her closer.

* * *

Early the next morning, Merlin lay beside Mithian on their bed, his mind already whirling with the need to speak with Kilgharrah.

"Take me with you," Mithian said suddenly, startling Merlin from his mental planning.

"What?" he asked.

"When you leave, take me with you."

"How did you know I planned on going out to call for Kilgharrah?"

"I didn't. I mean, that's not what I meant, but I'll gladly go with you to speak with him again."

"What did you mean, then?" Merlin asked, though he was afraid he already knew the answer.

"When you leave to take Mordred to the Cauldron, I'm coming with you," Mithian said, her eyes flashing in determination.

"It's too dangerous," Merlin answered.

"Any more dangerous than being Morgana's captive? Or leading Arthur into a trap?" Mithian asked.

"It is possible," Merlin said. Mithian scoffed, sitting up to lean over Merlin on her elbow.

"We've only been married a week and you've been gone half that time, nearly leaving me a widow! You cannot leave me behind again. When I felt the dread and pain that I did when you were shot, I knew that you were in trouble. I felt so _helpless _here, safe in our bed, when I knew you were most likely dying."

"Tell me more about this feeling you had," Merlin asked, his curiosity piqued now that they were in the privacy of their chambers.

"It was definitely the night you were shot," Mithian began. "I was here in bed, and I was nearly knocked breathless by the sudden and utter sense of dread that I felt. I was just fine one minute and sobbing the next, and there was such a pain in my chest, it was as though I could feel _your _pain."

"I'm at a loss as to explain why," Merlin said, reaching up to tuck an errant strand of hair back behind Mithian's ear.

"Perhaps when we speak with Kilgharrah, he'll have an explanation for it."

"Maybe he will. But I can't really call him during the day and… I'm under _strict_ physician's orders to _rest_," Merlin said with false innocence. Mithian instantly caught on.

"It would be a crime to let you out of this bed," she agreed with mock solemnity.

"I wouldn't want to make a _criminal_ out of you," Merlin replied, his lips fighting the upward turn of a grin.

"Perish the thought! Though I have already committed treason for you," Mithian chuckled. Merlin just laughed delightedly and pulled her to the bed, rolling her beneath him and lowering his lips to hers.

* * *

"We're skulking around in the dark again," Mithian whispered conspiratorially as they wound their way through the trees an hour after sunset.

"I'm making a criminal of you after all?"

"I suppose it could be interpreted that way, though I didn't think breaking the law could be so very fun," Mithian replied.

"Can you really say that we are breaking the law, still? Since Arthur knows now?"

"It is still on the law books, is it not?"

"Semantics," Merlin argued.

"Until we can walk out the gates and tell the guard, 'Don't wait up, we're just going to talk to the dragon,' I think it's safe to say that we're breaking the law."

"You are the expert; I will take your word for it," Merlin chuckled. Soon they were emerging from the trees into the clearing where Merlin usually called Kilgharrah. Mithian hung back while Merlin moved into the center of the clearing and called for the dragon with a roar to the heavens.

"That was just as impressive the second time," Mithian said coyly.

"You're going to inflate my head saying that," Merlin chuckled.

"No more than you inflate mine every time you call me beautiful," Mithian replied.

"Ahh, but that is the _truth_," Merlin argued.

"So is what I said," Mithian said. "Someday soon, you will see yourself clearly. It is now my mission in life."

"Perhaps it is better that I stay humble," Merlin reasoned.

"There's a difference between humble and self-deprecating, Merlin. Guess which one you are?"

"Humble?" Merlin asked facetiously, enjoying the smirk on Mithian's face as she played along.

"You are that, but more often than not, you are _very_ self-deprecating."

"Sorry. I don't mean to be. I suppose it comes with believing yourself to be a monster for the better part of your life."

"You were never a monster, Merlin."

"Do you two _ever_ stop talking?" Kilgharrah rumbled as he landed heavily in the clearing, interrupting their discussion.

"Kilgharrah!" Merlin exclaimed, his cheeks reddening even as Mithian giggled.

"What is it you need this time, young warlock?"

"I need to know how to reverse the Teine Diaga," Merlin answered, immediately sobering. Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed.

"You hope to cleanse the druid boy?" Kilgharrah asked.

"That is Arthur's wish," Merlin replied.

"Why did you heal the boy? Yet again you've foolishly let another opportunity to rid Camelot of a dangerous threat pass by."

"How is mercy and kindness foolish?" Mithian interjected, displeased with the apathy Kilgharrah showed for a human's life.

"Mordred has had his destiny foretold for just as long as Merlin and Arthur's has been. Allowing him to live only threatens the future of Albion."

"So by that logic, killing Mordred will change his prophesied destiny, for he cannot be dead and destined to kill Arthur. How then is it not possible to change his future through kindness and mercy? Is it not possible that repeatedly trying to kill him or showing no value for his life is what turns Mordred against Arthur in the first place?" Mithian argued heatedly, causing Kilgharrah to blink in befuddlement and Merlin to look at her in surprise and pleasure.

"You did it. You managed to silence Kilgharrah. I knew there was a good reason to marry you," Merlin chuckled. Mithian smiled at her husband.

"You mean other than my criminal inclinations?"

"Your argument has merit, Princess Mithian," Kilgharrah allowed begrudgingly, interrupting the warlock and his wife before they could flirt any further. "Indeed I believe it was a good thing that Merlin has taken you as his mate."

"Kilgharrah! That sounds so..." Merlin trailed off.

"Instinctual? Natural?" the dragon ventured.

"I was thinking crude. Though heartless would work as well."

"Yet again I must caution you not to ascribe human emotions to me."

"So long as you don't ascribe dragon emotions to me," Merlin answered.

"Very well. I will endeavor to remember that you are not a dragon."

"You're just mocking me now."

"The Teine Diaga," Kilgharrah replied, ignoring Merlin's protest.

"We've found that we'll need to take Mordred to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. But beyond that we aren't sure what must be done."

"This is a particularly difficult enchantment to break," Kilgharrah began. "The use of multiple mandrake roots causes the mind to break down, allowing for another, stronger will to take control. The mind of the person under the Teine Diaga is buried, deep within, unless it was shattered completely before the ritual was completed.

"In order to cleanse Mordred, you must take him to the Cauldron and he must enter the waters. However, he must do so of his own free will, otherwise the binding will not be broken. You must call upon the White Goddess, young warlock, and request her healing upon the boy. Only then will the Teine Diaga be broken."

"Thank you," Merlin said, thinking over what the dragon had told them.

"Be cautious, Merlin," Kilgharrah warned, surprising the warlock at the use of his given name. "Morgana will not allow Mordred to be cleansed without a fight. She is now a powerful seer, no doubt she will know of any action you intend to take.

"We'll be ready for her," Merlin promised.

"I hope that is true, young warlock," Kilgharrah rumbled, then opened his wings as though to take flight.

"Wait!" Merlin called, causing Kilgharrah to settle back down.

"What is it _now_, young warlock?" the dragon said irritatedly. Merlin looked to Mithian for a moment, and then turned back to Kilgharrah.

"Mithian felt it when I was injured the other night," Merlin began.

"How so?" Kilgharrah asked, looking to Mithian once again and narrowing his eyes.

"I felt an overwhelming sense of dread and pain. I knew instinctively that Merlin was in danger, just as I knew that he was alright when morning came."

Kilgharrah's eyes widened in a way that Merlin had never seen before.

"This is truly unusual," the dragon answered, studying Mithian. Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes and bent his head lower, as though to smell the human pair more closely. His eyes widened again a moment later, and Kilgharrah pulled back, eyeing Merlin speculatively.

"You've given her magic?" the dragon asked incredulously.

"What?" Merlin asked, utterly confused.

"Have you at any time granted her a gift of power?"

"I wouldn't say _power_, but I have given her a burst of energy, before. Similar to how I helped the dryad heal, but different."

"How so?" the dragon asked.

"With the dryad, I just sort of gave her a burst of magic. I did something similar to Mithian just before we were betrothed, but it did feel a bit different. I felt much more connected to Mithian afterwards."

"A large part of learning magic lies in learning how to bend the power to one's will, Merlin. In the average sorcerer, the power is not inherent to them. They are pulling the magic from the world around them. For a sorcerer to completely subvert such power to their will is impossible. You, however, young warlock, do not _have magic _as you humans say. You are a creature of magic; in essence, you _are _magic, just as I am. Magic follows your will gladly. As such, I believe that you unintentionally gifted your mate with some of your magic."

"I have his _magic_?" Mithian asked in surprise. "Could I use it?"

"No, Princess Mithian. The power granted to you is not great; merely a raindrop compared to the sea. But it has left you tied together in such a way that I believe will have long-reaching effects that neither of you will be able to fathom any time soon," Kilgharrah said mysteriously and then took off before Merlin could stop him.

"What does _that_ mean?" Mithian asked, looking at her husband with wide-eyed confusion.

"I have no idea, though I suppose we'll know in time," Merlin said. "But we _do _know what we need to do for Mordred. Let's get back to the citadel."

* * *

**A/N: Hee hee! Writing Merlin telling off a stuffy noble was very satisfying, but letting Mithian tell off Kilgharrah? Priceless! ;)**


	13. The Cauldron of Arianrhod

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews, they really make my day! This is another of my favorite chapters, so I hope you all will enjoy it just as much!**

* * *

**The Cauldron of Arianrhod**

Merlin and Mithian made their way back to their chambers, staying to the shadows to avoid the nightly patrols. Mithian was hard-pressed not to laugh when Merlin used subtle magic to distract a group of guards lingering in the courtyard.

"It's no wonder why you always wanted to escort me to my chambers," Mithian chuckled as all three guards went chasing after Merlin's conjured noises. The warlock nodded ruefully at his wife.

"Believe me, I've been wanting to discuss the castle's security with Arthur for some time. Unfortunately, I haven't said anything because the lax security has served my purposes as well," Merlin said regretfully before chuckling humorlessly. "It's not like I could have said anything before, anyways. It's rather difficult to say how it is that you've noticed the deplorable security when the only reason you know that is because you've been breaking the law."

"Soon you won't have to hide and skulk in the dark anymore," Mithian said reassuringly, hating the subtle, self-deprecating tone in Merlin's voice and attitude.

"I hope that's true," Merlin replied, appreciating Mithian's attempt to lighten his sudden melancholy. They walked in silence the rest of the way, ducking into an alcove when two guards walked by discussing the gossip they'd heard at The Rising Sun. Finally, a few corridors away from their chambers, Mithian looked challengingly at Merlin.

"No cheating," Mithian warned as she sternly pointed a finger at the warlock, causing Merlin to look at her incredulously.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Catch me if you can," she whispered, eyes sparkling as she smiled challengingly at Merlin and took off, running down the hallway.

"Hey!" Merlin whisper-shouted, belatedly setting off in pursuit. Mithian's soft laughter rang through the corridors. Merlin darted around a corner just in time to see the flare of Mithian's dark cloak disappearing around the next. Mithian had just reached their door when Merlin caught up to her, grabbing a hold of her and spinning her around to face him. They were both laughing breathlessly as Merlin picked her up as he had on their wedding night and used magic to wordlessly open the door as he kissed her.

Pulling back and looking at Mithian's sparkling eyes, Merlin raised an eyebrow as he willed the door shut.

"What was that about _cheating_?" he laughed as the latch quietly snicked shut and the bolt slid into the lock.

"You've got magic; I've got to take advantage where I can," Mithian said airily, giggling at Merlin's raised eyebrow.

"Is that so?" Merlin asked, silencing the princess' mischievous laughter when he leaned in to claim her lips once more. Merlin moved further into their room, Mithian still brushing over his lips with her own, until a throat cleared in the darkness, freezing them in place.

"Please, don't stop on our account," Arthur's voice called out with false cheer.

"Arthur?!" Merlin exclaimed, putting Mithian on her feet and muttering, "_Bæl on bryne_."

The sconces and candles immediately lit, revealing a grinning Arthur sitting at their table, his feet propped up as he leaned back in the chair. Gwen sat beside him, struggling to contain her grin even as her cheeks burned red. Mithian stood tall, smoothing her tunic down and putting on her most proper, regal face.

"Arthur, Guinevere," she greeted, as though Merlin hadn't just been chasing her rather indecorously down the hallway and they hadn't been kissing one another in a manner unfit for public display mere moments before. "Can we help you with something?"

"We were thinking rather the same thing," Gwen offered when Arthur could only grin cheekily at Merlin's consternated glare.

"What exactly did you need then?" Merlin asked frustratedly. Arthur could hold back no longer, laughing hysterically until he hiccupped. Gwen patted the king on the back as he did his best to compose himself.

"Imagine our surprise..." Arthur began, looking mirthfully at his wife, "...when Guinevere and I saw a _certain _pair of people leaving the city after sundown this evening. Especially since a certain half of that pair was holed up in his chambers all day, _resting_," Arthur teased.

"Of course he was resting," Mithian said, blushing as Arthur and Gwen each raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"In any case, I decided I ought to go to the highest sentry point in the castle and see if I could discover what would draw two such people from the castle in the dark. On a moonless night like this one, it was almost _impossible_ to _see _anything, but I could have _sworn _I heard something _large and flappy_," Arthur mused in false bewilderment.

"Flappy?!" Merlin snorted. "Don't ever refer to Kilgharrah as _flappy _in front of him. He may not want to kill you, but he certainly wouldn't hesitate to singe you a bit."

"Are you then admitting to liaising with such a creature?" Arthur asked facetiously.

"We went to speak to the dragon," Merlin confirmed with an eye roll before Arthur could say anything more.

"About?" the king asked, dropping the playful demeanor.

"Reversing the Teine Diaga, of course," Merlin responded.

"Good. You _can_ tell me these things now, Merlin."

"I'll remember that the next time I've got to talk to Kilgharrah for Camelot's sake," Merlin assured the king. Arthur nodded.

"Did the dragon know anything?" Arthur asked hopefully. Merlin nodded.

"What do we need to do? Elyan said that Mordred was in a right state after spending all night and all day confined to his chambers."

Merlin relayed what Kilgharrah had said, while Mithian filled in a few details here and there.

"How are we going to get him into the water willingly?" Gwen asked, looking at the others in obvious concern.

"That's something we'll have to tackle when we get there. Whilst others were _lazing about _today," Arthur said with false pomposity, "I've been surveying the latest maps of Camelot, and from what I understand, the Cauldron of Arianrhod is at least a three day journey from here. I feel we should leave as soon as we can."

"I'll let the others know first thing in the morning," Merlin answered.

"No, I think we need to keep this as small and unobtrusive as possible. Just you and I will take Mordred. You can keep him asleep," Arthur replied. "The fewer the better."

"And should we run into anyone less than friendly?" Merlin asked sensibly.

"Honestly, Merlin, between me, you and your dragon, I think we'll be fine."

Merlin smiled at the confidence Arthur had in him. It was nice, he mused, being included in a quest because of his _magical _skills rather than his _servant _skills.

"With just Mordred and the two of us-" Arthur began.

"Three. I'm going as well," Mithian interjected. Arthur's eyes widened.

"I cannot in good conscious allow you to come, Mithian. This will be a very dangerous quest," Arthur protested.

"You said yourself, between you, Merlin and his dragon we'll be fine. I can help, too; you know I'm an excellent shot with a crossbow."

"Mithian-" Arthur reasoned, though the princess cut him off.

"I cannot stay here and watch Merlin leave again. He nearly _died _a few days ago; I will _not _be left behind a second time."

Arthur and Mithian stared at one another challengingly. Merlin knew better than to get in between them. Finally, the king sighed and relented.

"Very well," Arthur said, then looked at Merlin. "Have you had any funny feelings lately?"

"No, though I have little doubt that Morgana's finding herself a new horde to fight for her, I believe that she is not likely to stray far from Camelot. She may not want to expend her strength transporting herself over great distances every time she wants to speak to Mordred or feed him information. Not only that, as a seer, she'll have plenty of warning if we take too long to act."

Arthur nodded, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Then I feel that we must act quickly to prevent any action on Morgana's part. Do you feel rested enough?"

"I'm perfectly rested," Merlin answered in his typically cheerful tone. Arthur smiled gratefully at his First Advisor and gave a brief nod.

"Then we'll leave before first light."

* * *

There were still stars twinkling in the sky when Guinevere bid the king a safe journey and farewell while still in their chambers. With her favor tied firmly around his arm, Arthur met Merlin and Mithian in the corridor outside the royal bedchambers. The three of them moved as silently as possible, stopping only once they were in front of Mordred's chamber door.

"Having a little party, are we?" Gwaine asked, as he and Leon were taking a turn at watch.

"We're using the cover of darkness to sneak out and travel to the Cauldron," Arthur explained.

"You're a day early," Gwaine said, narrowing his eyes. "You wanted at least two days rest, you've only had one."

"Are you worried about the quest, Sire?" Leon asked worriedly. "Is there an attack rumored?"

"Not necessarily. We're trying to prevent one," Arthur answered. Gwaine raised an eyebrow at the king's words.

"We've a three day journey ahead of us. Morgana must be intending to stay close by the city with such a well-placed spy; hopefully, she hasn't realized that we know about Mordred. We want to get out of the city before Morgana has a chance to realize that we're gone," Merlin explained. Gwaine and Leon nodded.

"We'll come with you," Gwaine offered.

"No, we're trying to keep our numbers small," Arthur argued.

"But you're taking the _Princess_?" Gwaine asked incredulously as he pointed at Mithian.

"They aren't _taking_ me anywhere, I'm going of my own free will and demand," Mithian replied, showing the crossbow slung over her shoulder. "I'm a decent shot, I can hold my own."

"I stand corrected," Gwaine chuckled. "Watch out for Merlin, though, would you? He attracts ruffians and thugs like bees to honey."

"Hey!" Merlin protested, looking at Gwaine indignantly.

"Open the door Leon, we need to get Mordred and get out of here," Arthur said. Gwaine nodded along.

"I'll go get some horses and wait for you by the south gate," Gwaine offered.

"Thank you, Gwaine, that's what I'd hoped for; just three, though. If we take too many their absence will be noticed much faster," Arthur instructed. Then he turned to Merlin.

"You know what to do."

Merlin nodded and moved closer to the door, Arthur right behind him. Mithian held back, staying in the hall as the king and his warlock entered Mordred's chambers. Leon closed the door behind the two men and they paused just inside the entryway, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness within the room.

"Let's find him quickly and get him ready to go," Arthur whispered.

Merlin tentatively stepped further into the room, only to catch a hastily thrown helm, a goblet and a pair of boots with his magic before they could hit him or Arthur.

"Mordred!" he called out sharply as though scolding an unruly child. Merlin peered into the deepest shadows in the direction the thrown objects came from. Suddenly, Mordred came charging from the shadows, a scream on his lips and a long knife in his hands. Arthur tensed, ready to meet the young knight's charge with force, but with a flare of gold and a fisted hand, Merlin halted Mordred and flung the knife away before the knight could do any damage.

"_Swefnu_!" Merlin incanted, then rushed forward to grab a hold of Mordred before the younger man could crumple bonelessly to the floor. Arthur slowly straightened from his ready position and looked at his First Advisor appraisingly.

"Gwaine was right; this magic lark is pretty handy. Nicely done," Arthur murmured. Merlin chuckled under his breath and smiled. Arthur smiled and patted Merlin on the shoulder, then sobered as he took in the sleeping knight.

"Let's go."

* * *

Mithian led the way to the south gate, furtively checking around each corner along the way. Arthur and Merlin followed behind, each with one of Mordred's arms slung over their shoulders. The corridors and outdoor paths were deserted, making their route easier than Merlin had expected.

As promised, Gwaine was waiting just outside the south gate with a group of horses. Once Arthur came closer, though, he counted them with a confused scowl.

"Gwaine? Why did you saddle four mounts!? I said three!"

"Well, there are four of you," Gwaine began.

"Merlin can share with Mithian, I'm sure they won't mind the close quarters," Arthur argued.

"That was my thought exactly. With four horses, Mordred and you and I can all have our own horse, and the sweet young lovers can share," Gwaine explained.

"I never said you could come!" Arthur exclaimed irritatedly.

"See, that's your problem. You assumed that I cared about what you said. I'm coming; someone has to watch your backs."

Arthur growled and moved to his horse, muttering curses under his breath as he pulled himself into the saddle. Then the king looked indignantly at a smirking Merlin.

"This is your fault, you know. You're a bad influence on him," Arthur groused.

"Me?!" Merlin asked indignantly.

"Who else is there who disregards my orders with such obstinacy?"

"Apparently, _Gwaine_," Merlin answered as he helped the knight in question lift Mordred's sleeping form onto a horse and secure him with a flash of his eyes and a whispered spell.

"Believe me, Arthur, I've bad habits enough without any influence from Merlin, here," Gwaine chuckled, swinging himself into his saddle.

Merlin grinned and climbed up behind Mithian. Sharing a horse was much easier now, Merlin mused. There was no question of where to put his hands as he wrapped his arms around Mithian while she handled the reins. Merlin pulled her into his chest and put a kiss on her cheek that did not go unnoticed by the king.

"If I hear one giggle out of you two, you're sharing with Gwaine, _Mer_lin," Arthur threatened, scowling at the warlock only half-teasingly.

"I'll be sure to keep my flirtations to a minimum," Mithian said facetiously.

"I'd promise to keep my hands to myself, but well," Merlin shrugged, gesturing to his hold on Mithian's waist. Arthur grimaced at Merlin, giving an exaggerated shudder before giving the order to move out.

* * *

After a long day of riding, Merlin was glad to be camped for the night. Gwaine took on the care of the horses, brushing them down and feeding them while Merlin cooked their supper over the fire. Mithian began the task of laying out bedrolls while Arthur consulted the maps he had brought along with them.

After ladling some of the stew into bowls for everyone else, Merlin took a small serving of the broth and spooned it slowly into Mordred's mouth. The young knight seemed to be handling the journey fairly well, but even unconscious, he exuded an empty aura that made Merlin's spine tingle.

"Thank you, Merlin."

The warlock looked up at Arthur in surprise. He'd not heard the king come so close.

"It's no problem," Merlin answered, spooning another mouthful of broth into Mordred and coaxing the unconscious man to swallow it.

"I know you've never liked Mordred or that I knighted him. I'm grateful that you're helping me do this," Arthur replied, much to Merlin's surprise. He hadn't realized that Arthur had noticed his distrust of the young man.

"It's not that I dislike him," Merlin protested. "I just can't help being distrustful of him, considering what I've seen. Kilgharrah told me years ago, when Mordred was just a boy, that he was destined to kill you. I had almost forgotten about him until we were looking for the missing patrols up north. In the cave beside the slaughtered village, the Lochru showed me a vision of a young knight killing you. Then that same young man turned up with those bandits working for Morgana and introduced himself as Mordred. It was like my worst nightmare was coming true."

"It must be burdensome to see the future," Arthur mused, knowing that he would do anything in his power to stop it if he had been shown a vision of Merlin's death.

"It is," Merlin agreed. "Three times now, I have been given a glimpse into the future, and three times I have agonized over why I saw those particular things, and how I was meant to change it when I've had to do everything on my own and in secret. I'm still wondering how to fix the last one," Merlin said, looking at Arthur pointedly before spooning more broth into Mordred's mouth.

"Perhaps _together_, we can change the future," Arthur said, and Merlin knew that it wasn't just the vision of Arthur's death that the king was referring to.

"Are you prepared to change more than twenty years of hate and persecution, even when the council objects?"

"_Especially_ when the council objects," Arthur said with a grin, causing Merlin to chuckle in spite of the seriousness of their conversation.

"You are prepared to go against your father's most fundamental beliefs and change the laws he enacted?" Merlin asked seriously.

"When I was speaking to my father's ghost a few months ago, I told him that I had to rule Camelot in the way that I saw fit; that I couldn't rule the way he had. I told him that he'd had his turn and now it's mine. I think it's time that I follow through with those words."

"I've been waiting the better part of a decade to hear you say that," Merlin said gratefully, putting down the now-empty bowl and wiping his hands on his trousers.

"You know, for as much as you prattle on, I'm amazed that you managed to keep your big mouth shut for so long about having magic."

"Funnily enough, that's _exactly_ why I prattle."

"Excuse me?" Arthur laughed. Merlin smiled ruefully.

"When I was very young, I had a hard time _not _talking about magic, since it was such a significant part of my life. Understandably, my mother had to find a way to keep me from saying something damning inadvertently. So she told me that anytime I wanted to tell someone about magic, I should talk about anything _except _magic until the desire passed. Unfortunately, it became a bit of a habit."

"A _bit_?" Arthur laughed. "I'd hate to see what you call a real habit."

"Stop your jabbering and come eat before I take it all," Gwaine called out as he cleared the last of the dregs from his bowl. "Excellent, as usual, Merlin."

The warlock smiled and nodded his thanks as he, Arthur and Mithian tucked into their bowls in comfortable silence. Gwaine leaned against a nearby tree and was asleep in moments, having been up for nearly a full day.

"I'm going to get some rest," Arthur said, moving to his bedroll. "Wake me in a few hours to take watch."

Mithian leaned closer to Merlin as soon as Arthur's soft snores were heard.

"Soon," she whispered, and Merlin knew she spoke of magic's return.

"Soon," he repeated, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his side to keep her warm. Mithian looked up into his eyes and smiled hopefully.

"You'll be free."

* * *

In the late morning on the third day, Arthur called a halt as they crested a hill overlooking a rocky ravine. An imposing mountain range rose up on the far side of the narrow valley. The crumbling grey cliffs were rough and uneven, the craggy ravine floor looking as though it might crumble under foot.

"The Cauldron of Arianrhod is supposed to be on the westernmost peak," Merlin said, following the ridgeline with his eyes. Mithian, sitting behind him, leaned around her taller husband to take in the mountains ahead of them.

"We've got a climb ahead of us then," she mused.

"Of course we do," Gwaine groaned. "It seems we've been questing rather a lot since you came into our lives, Princess."

"You didn't have to come," Arthur reminded the knight.

"What fun would that be?" Gwaine grinned. "This is how I like life, Arthur; never a dull moment."

"Nothing is ever dull with you around, Gwaine," Merlin laughed.

"We'll take the horses as far as we can, then we'll go on foot," Arthur proposed, kicking his horse into motion. Everyone fell into line behind him, carefully guiding their mounts around the loosest patches of gravel. Finally, a third of the way to the summit, the horses could go no further, the rocks slipping under their hooves leaving them anxious and easily spooked.

"On foot from here," Arthur ordered, and the four of them divided their gear among them, Arthur slinging Mordred over his shoulder.

The path up the mountain was well-worn, marked by the hundreds of previous visitors. Merlin could feel the magic of the Cauldron half-way up the mountain. The sudden tingle of energy that raced over his body made him stop abruptly. Gwaine nearly ran into Merlin, standing frozen as he was in the middle of the path. Only Avalon or The Isle of the Blessed could compare in its powerful magical signature.

"Merlin?" Gwaine asked as he stepped in front of the warlock. Mithian and Arthur, walking ahead of them on the path, both turned around at Gwaine's question.

"What is it?" Mithian asked, coming back to look worriedly into Merlin's stunned eyes.

"The Cauldron," Merlin finally managed.

"What about it?" Arthur asked, somewhat alarmed.

"I can feel it," Merlin whispered staring blankly ahead of him as he reached out with his senses.

"From here?" Mithian asked.

"Are we close then?"

Merlin shook his head at Arthur's question and pulled his awareness back into himself.

"We're maybe halfway," Merlin answered.

"This is a powerful place then? Or just a powerful warlock?" Gwaine asked curiously.

"It's the most powerful magical aura I have felt outside The Isle of the Blessed or The Lake of Avalon," Merlin admitted.

"_And_ a powerful warlock," Mithian said proudly, tingeing Merlin's cheeks with red.

"If we're only halfway, we should get moving," Arthur ordered and Merlin nodded, shaking his head to clear it.

An hour later, they finally crested the top of the ridge, pausing to look down on the bowl that made up the Cauldron. The waters were a vibrant blue, the bottom clearly visible. Arthur hefted Mordred higher onto his shoulder before picking his way down the sloped embankment towards the rocky shore.

Merlin, Mithian and Gwaine followed close behind, watching their feet as the rocks slipped and slid beneath them. Once beside Arthur, Merlin looked up and around at the high cliffs surrounding the Cauldron, protecting it from the high winds prevalent on mountaintops. However, the warlock couldn't shake the feeling of unease that plagued him. One of his funny feelings, perhaps, Merlin mused. While the walls sheltered the waters, they also provided an excellent place to ambush someone down in the basin of the Cauldron.

"Let's not linger too long," Merlin cautioned, noticing both Arthur and Gwaine studying the ridgeline as he had.

"I think you're right," Arthur murmured, laying Mordred down on the embankment and looking questioningly at Merlin.

"What now?" Gwaine asked the question on all their minds. Mithian held her bow at the ready, eyeing the cliffs around them while the men knelt down beside Mordred.

"I'll need to wake him. Arthur, you and Gwaine will have the best chance of getting him into the water willingly," Merlin explained, waiting until Arthur and Gwaine both nodded before looking down at Mordred once more.

"What if he doesn't do it willingly?" Gwaine interrupted just as Merlin was about to utter the spell to wake the unconscious knight.

"Then he'll be under Morgana's control until the day he dies," Merlin said seriously. Gwaine raised his eyebrows.

"Best he goes willingly then," the knight agreed. Merlin nodded, then looked down at Mordred once more.

"_Tóbregdan, Mordred. Níede slæpest un máne!"_

Mordred blinked slowly for a minute while he looked around him at Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine. Then he sat up abruptly, looking suspiciously at them, though he scowled in Merlin's direction.

"Why have you brought me here?" Mordred asked. Merlin could see the involuntary shiver that ran down Mordred's spine. It gave the warlock hope that Mordred's sense of magic hadn't been entirely locked away.

"Mordred," Arthur said, gaining the knight's attention.

"My Lord?" Mordred asked, though there was a hint of disrespect in his eyes that had never been there before.

"This is called The Cauldron of Arianrhod," Arthur explained, looking over his shoulder at the water. "We've brought you here because Morgana has put you under an enchantment."

"What are you talking about?" Mordred asked suspiciously.

"You have been put under the Teine Diaga," Arthur answered. "We brought you here to cleanse you in the waters."

"I don't want to do anything _you _want me to," Mordred answered petulantly. Merlin held his breath as Arthur and Gwaine both smiled disarmingly at the young knight.

"Come on mate," Gwaine said, smiling wider. "You're our brother; we want to see you get better."

"There's _nothing _wrong with me," Mordred growled. Then Merlin had an epiphany.

"Mordred," he called softly. The knight looked at Merlin and narrowed his eyes in distaste.

"There _is _something wrong, though, isn't there? If you look within yourself, Mordred, you'll understand what I mean."

"I don't believe anything you say," Mordred argued. Arthur and Gwaine stood and slowly backed off, knowing that in this moment, Mordred was more likely to listen to Merlin. Their knightly bond with the young man was superseded by the kinship the two warlocks shared through magic. Merlin smiled sadly.

"I understand that you don't care for me and you don't want to believe me. Look for your magic, then. Try and use it," Merlin urged him. Mordred scowled at the warlock, but closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Merlin waited as Mordred searched for his center as his first teachers would have taught him to. A moment later, Mordred's brow furrowed. Confusion flitted across the young man's expression; then finally his face crumpled. Mordred exuded an extreme sense of panic and unease. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Merlin beseechingly.

"Where is it?" he asked anxiously. "It's gone, where has it gone?!"

"It's the Teine Diaga," Merlin began.

"BUT IT'S GONE!" Mordred screamed. "IT'S GONE!"

"I know, Mordred, I know you're frightened, I would be too," Merlin soothed, moving directly in front of Mordred to look into his eyes. "Your magic is a part of you, like mine is a part of me."

"I want it back," Mordred moaned, folding his arms around himself comfortingly.

"That's what we want to do here at the Cauldron," Merlin reasoned.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Mordred asked, suddenly suspicious. Merlin looked shrewdly at the younger warlock.

"Morgana put you in a room with mandrakes, didn't she?" Merlin asked, looking at Mordred understandingly.

"Yes," Mordred confirmed, nearly sobbing at the memory. "The screams. They were terrible."

"It was the mandrakes that buried your gift, Mordred. You have to walk into the waters of the Cauldron; then I can help you find your magic again," Merlin said softly. The young knight looked intently at Merlin's honest and open face for a long minute before he finally nodded; Merlin stood and held a hand out to Mordred, who allowed the older warlock to pull him to his feet.

"What do I need to do?" Mordred asked, his eyes locked on the calm water.

"Just go out into the water, I will do the rest," Merlin instructed. Mordred nodded once again and looked towards Arthur almost guiltily.

"I know about your magic, Mordred. It is my desire to help you and your kin to live in Camelot freely."

Mordred let out a great breath of relief and smiled tremulously at the King he had sworn to serve and protect.

"Thank you, Arthur," he whispered, then looked back at Merlin before he walked slowly into the water. Great ripples traveled across the surface of the water as Mordred ventured deeper into the pool. Once he was chest deep, Mordred turned and looked towards the shore expectantly. Merlin nodded once, then closed his eyes and raised a hand towards Mordred.

"_Yfel gæst ga þu fram þisse lichaman. Biþ hine mod eft mann. Ar ond heofontungol sceal þurhswiþan!" _Merlin said, his voice growing louder and more powerful with each word. Arthur, Gwaine and Mithian each took an instinctual step back as power seemed to radiate off of Merlin. Suddenly, a white light rose up from out of the waters, bathing Mordred in a glowing energy that undulated as it grew until it surrounded him completely.

Finally, the light fell back into the pool and Merlin dropped his hand tiredly. Mordred seemed to sag momentarily before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. A soft, grateful smile grew across his face before the former druid opened his eyes and looked at Merlin.

"Thank you, Merlin," he said, his voice strained as he began to move out of the water.

"MERLIN!" Mithian's sudden scream had everyone instantly alert, Merlin especially. The warlock turned and immediately threw a hand in front of him, blindly blocking anything that might be headed towards them. Three arrows turned to ash as they hit Merlin's shield.

"Saxons!" Gwaine exclaimed, drawing his sword as he watched a line of men appear on the ridge around the Cauldron.

"And Morgana," Arthur added as he, too, drew his weapon, recognising his sister's black-clad form among the Saxons.

"I told you that you needed me to watch your back," Gwaine quipped. Arthur chuckled humorlessly as both King and knight took up a ready stance.

"I'm glad you're here, Gwaine," the king allowed.

"You're completely surrounded, dear brother," Morgana drawled, her voice echoing around the basin as she smirked at Arthur's small group of five. Her forces outnumbered them four-to-one.

"Why are you doing this?!" Mordred shouted as he emerged from the waters, surprising everyone there.

"You should know _why_, Mordred, we are of a kind, after all. Yet you willingly don the uniform of a Knight of Camelot. You deny your true nature and serve a King who would have you dead! You are no better than Merlin, the so-called Emrys."

"Would I have made this journey to heal him from _your _dark enchantment if I only meant to kill him?" Arthur asked. "You may tell yourself that you are fighting for your kin, to free others like you, but you have stopped seeing the truth, Morgana. I know now about Merlin and Mordred's magic. Yet you see them still standing by my side. I intend to repeal the ban on magic. What you are doing now, Morgana, is not for your _kin_, it is for _yourself_."

"I am your elder sister," Morgana argued. "_I_ should have been Queen, not some serving girl! Our father claimed to love me, but he _hated _me and favored _you_! I will have what is rightfully mine! NOW!"

At Morgana's words, the Saxons let out a cry and charged recklessly down the embankment. Mithian let loose an arrow, felling one man before he made it down the hill. The princess was reloading when Arthur and Gwaine charged forward to meet the first attackers. Mordred ran to the packs, grabbing a spare sword and joining the fray with a fierce battle cry. Merlin stepped forward, holding out his hand to blast an advancing group when a shrill cry rent the air.

Everyone ducked as the pure white dragon swooped overhead, clearly headed for Merlin. Mithian took a shot with her crossbow, but it bounced off ineffectually.

"Save your bolts! They won't harm a dragon!" Merlin screamed, looking towards Mithian and blasting a Saxon back before the man could attack the princess while she was resetting her bow.

Arthur and Gwaine were fighting back to back, holding their own against the attacking men. Mordred was making his way in their direction, making use of the skills Arthur had taught him to best his opponents. All of them were being swarmed by Saxons as Morgana stood at the top of the ridge, observing.

"MERLIN!" Mithian shouted again, causing Merlin to look up even as Aithusa dove towards him, a fiery torrent spouting from her maw. As he shielded himself from the flames, Merlin recognised Morgana's strategy; Aithusa was here as a diversion to keep the warlock from protecting Arthur. Merlin had to struggle to keep from smiling at the massive flaw in Morgana's plan.

"_AITHUSA_!" the dragonlord called, his voice strong and powerful as it took on the timbre of the dragonlord gift. _"Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! _You will _not _follow Morgana any longer, Aithusa!" Merlin yelled. "Go! Find the Great One and learn from him!"

The dragon cringed back at the command, cowed by the dragonlord. Aithusa chirruped mournfully, looking at the High Priestess one last time before flapping her wings harder and gaining more height to leave the Cauldron entirely. Morgana's face crumpled as she watched her one faithful ally fail in her given task and leave her forever.

Merlin took advantage of Morgana's distraction and looked to where Arthur, Gwaine and Mordred were shoulder-to-shoulder in a triangle, fighting off the remaining men. Mordred ducked low, avoiding a wide swing of his opponent's sword just as Arthur whirled around and clashed his blade against the Saxon's, giving Mordred the time he needed to thrust upwards and dispatch the attacker. Gwaine used his signature move, disarming the man engaging him before smashing his pommel into the Saxon's face.

The last of their attackers backed off momentarily, trying to regroup and devise a new attack strategy against this unexpectedly effective trio of men. Merlin took advantage of the distance the regrouping created around his friends and thrust a hand forward, disarming the Saxons even as Mithian's deadly aim took down one of them.

Morgana ripped her eyes away from Aithusa's now distant form and growled in fury when it became clear that Merlin was yet again more than he seemed. Entering the battle for the first time, Morgana stalked towards the dragonlord with a palpable fury radiating off of her. Merlin watched her coming towards him solemnly, his instincts telling him that this would be their final meeting.

"You are such a disgrace to magic," Morgana seethed, her eyes flashing as she pushed at Merlin with her power. The warlock threw his hands forward, blocking the magical energy that Morgana had thrown with a wall of his own. When the two forces collided, a terrible crash thundered through the shallow basin of the Cauldron, stopping everyone in their places. All eyes lit upon Merlin and Morgana as they eyed one another; one in fury, the other in regret.

"You can stop this now, Morgana," Merlin tried, though he knew it was in vain. The High Priestess was too far gone down the path of darkness. Morgana began to enchant a spell, pulling hundreds of small, loose rocks from the ground and sending them swirling towards Merlin in a great cloud. Three of the remaining Saxons ran as Merlin held up a hand.

"_Smyltnes_," he said calmly, powerfully. The rocks fell from the air, obeying Merlin's will above Morgana's. The witch screamed in frustration, calling up a pillar of fire as Morgause had done many times. Merlin threw both hands up, his eyes flashing as the pillar shrank into the sand at his command.

"I've been controlling fire since I was a small boy, Morgana, you will not win that way," Merlin warned. Morgana screamed again, her fury unleashing a torrent of magic that knocked all but Merlin off their feet. Arthur, Gwaine and Mordred scrambled to their feet and backed up in an effort to avoid what was sure to come.

Then a furious battle erupted between witch and warlock; Merlin buffeting Morgana with fierce winds as she began to magically throw rocks and discarded weapons at Merlin in an attempt to catch him off guard. Several fireballs were thrown from both Merlin and Morgana; the witch dodging them while Merlin absorbed them and sent them back.

Arthur and Gwaine were awed at the show of power. The king understood in that moment that Merlin was truly the most powerful man he would ever meet. Mordred, who had known Merlin for who and what he was, watched with solemn respect for the power displayed. Mithian watched anxiously; she was separated from the king and knights by the magical duel, and she stayed down, trying to stay out of Morgana's sight. Having escaped the witch's clutches recently, the princess knew that the witch wouldn't hesitate to use her against Merlin.

Morgana stumbled, her energy waning when Merlin pushed her back with a wall of magic and a gust of wind. Looking around her desperately, the last High Priestess tried her final ploy. With a flare of her eyes, Morgana picked up a discarded sword and flung it in Arthur's direction, counting on Merlin's devotion to protecting the King to distract him. Pulling another sword from a dead Saxon's hand, Morgana hurled it in Merlin's direction before the warlock could turn from his defense of his King.

Morgana hadn't counted on Mithian though, and the selflessness that love begets.

At Mithian's pained gasp, Merlin wrenched his eyes away from Arthur, only to find his wife standing between him and Morgana, a Saxon's sword straight through her middle.

"NO!" Merlin shouted, then screamed angrily as his fury reached levels that he had never realized were possible. The water surged and the ground trembled; the wind roared and lightning streaked across the sky in a jagged bolt as the elements responded to Emrys' anguish. Arthur, Gwaine and Mordred struggled to stay on their feet, even as Mithian fell to her knees.

Merlin looked away from his wounded wife, his face a cold mask as he reached out a hand in Morgana's direction. She had only a second in her sudden terror to realize that Merlin was far more powerful than she had imagined. Then the warlock jerked his arm back while fisting his hand, grabbing the stunned witch with his magic and flinging her forcefully into the Cauldron of Arianrhod.

Instantly the water rose up as though to swallow the High Priestess. The surface of the pool began to bubble like it was boiling, though there was no heat emanating from the water. White foam began swirling across the surface and a fog formed, obscuring everything in its haze. Then a brilliant light burst from the water, burning it off.

Morgana screamed, utterly frightened as the glowing light surrounded her, encapsulating her in its pure energy. The witch was powerless against it, as it bound her magic more surely than Mordred's had been. With one final scream, Morgana was pulled under the surface, the light growing almost unbearably bright until it was suddenly gone in a rushing torrent of wind and sound.

Merlin gasped at the sudden rebounding of power that hit him, knocking him off balance momentarily. Then he turned and rushed towards Mithian as soon as he was stable. She was laying on her side, pale and weak, the sword lying next to her where she had tossed it.

"Noooo," Merlin groaned, feeling an uncomfortable familiarity as he grabbed a hold of her at the waterside, sobbing as he cradled her to his chest. "Not again, please not again," he whispered urgently. "_Noooooo_," he moaned in a strangled whisper.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed as he, Mordred and Gwaine skid to a stop beside them.

Merlin was blind and deaf to their presence, trying as he was to press a hand to Mithian's wound. His mind was chaotic as he pressed tender kisses to her face while murmuring healing spells through the tears that streamed down his face.

"Merlin..." Mithian whispered, and Merlin pulled back to meet her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked her, unable to tear his gaze away as he watched her grimace in pain, agonizing over the overwhelming feeling of loss that was threatening to take him over.

"The Cauldron," she whispered, looking towards the again-calm waters. "_Healing_ waters... take me... into the _water_."

Merlin's face instantly cleared, hope dawning rapidly as he hurriedly gathered Mithian into his arms and stood up. Arthur, Gwaine and Mordred stood solemnly on the shore as they watched the warlock gently cradle his wife as they moved deeper and deeper into the pool.

Once they were in to Merlin's chest, the warlock closed his eyes and let his head fall back before opening his eyes and looking into the heavens as he called out to the White Goddess once more.

This time, the light grew around them, illuminating them both in a blaze of burnished gold. Mithian gasped at the sensations coursing through her. Partly at that of her body healing as the wound knitted closed, but most of all, at the sensation of connection that she felt to Merlin. It had nothing to do with the way his arms enfolded her securely, but it was as though her very soul was touching Merlin's. The tiny kernel of magic he had gifted to her burned within her as the light swirled around them.

Merlin gasped in amazement at all the things he saw in the brightness; before his mind's eye, he saw Camelot grow into the great kingdom it was destined to be as he and Arthur worked side by side. He saw Gwen, great with child as Arthur proudly looked on. Then, he saw Mithian and himself, standing together as time moved around them, ever changing even as they stayed the same.

"Emrys," a voice whispered. Merlin looked around the light enveloping them, finally making out the form of a maiden, made entirely of light.

"Who are you?" he asked breathlessly.

"I am the White Goddess, the power that heals those who come to be cleansed in my waters."

"Did you show me those things?" he asked.

"What one sees while in the Cauldron is unique to them. I have no bearing on it."

"Is it the future?" Merlin asked.

"For some, it is a facsimile of what will come to pass."

"Then it's not a true vision?"

"Only you can know that."

"What happened to Morgana?" Merlin asked warily.

"Those who step into the Cauldron who are not worthy are sent to their due reward. In Morgana's case, she has been sent to Avalon to pay penance for her evils. There she will wait until it comes time for her to fulfill her duties to The Once and Future King."

"Then she's gone?"

"From this life as you know it, yes. Your friends are waiting for you, Emrys."

At her final words, the light gradually faded until Merlin could see the Cauldron around them. Looking down, Merlin could not contain the grateful sob that tore from him when he saw Mithian, whole and healthy, smiling at him.

Merlin nearly sank in exhaustion then, his knees buckling. Suddenly, Arthur, Gwaine and Mordred were there, supporting the warlock as they moved towards the shore. Merlin refused to let anyone take Mithian from his arms, cradling her to him until they sank, soaking wet and crying joyous tears, onto the ground beside the pool.

Pressing his forehead to Mithian's, Merlin tried unsuccessfully to stifle the tears of joy that streamed unhindered down his face. Mithian was crying as well, the both of them intermittently laughing and crying in utter relief and gratitude.

"Never, ever do that again," Merlin murmured.

"Only if you promise not to get killed if I don't," Mithian replied. Merlin laughed, then claimed her lips in a passionate kiss.

"What exactly happened to Morgana?" Arthur asked, pulling Merlin's attention away from Mithian.

"She's gone," the warlock replied hoarsely. "Sent to Avalon to pay penance for her crimes."

"She's not coming back?" Arthur asked, his tone both cautiously hopeful, yet steeped in disbelief.

"No," Merlin laughed in relief. "Though she's done so often enough that I understand your hesitance to believe that it's true."

"She's really gone?" Arthur asked again, this time, his voice tinged with grief. Merlin nodded solemnly, cradling Mithian closer to his chest as he thought regretfully of his memories of who Morgana had been before she had fallen under Morgause's influence.

"I know, Arthur," Merlin said softly. "She was your sister; she was once our friend. But that person died a long time ago. Morgana is in a better place now. A place where she can let go of her anger."

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur murmured, closing his eyes at the thought.

"That's twice you've thanked me in as many days," Merlin said, grinning smugly at his king.

"Don't let it go to your head, you're still an idiot most of the time, magic or not," Arthur scoffed.

"But you'd be lost without me," Merlin said pointedly, trying but failing to suppress his smirk. "Admit it, you need me."

"Merlin, you may be my advisor now, and even though you are far more powerful than I could have possibly imagined, there is something I will never hesitate to tell you."

"What's that?" Merlin asked knowingly, his smile widening at Arthur's struggle to keep a similar expression off his own face.

"Shut up, Merlin."

* * *

A/N: I love Gwaine in this chapter. So much fun to write! I really wished that he had a larger role in the last series, since he and Arthur and Merlin were Courage, Strength and Magic. I guess I can't complain too much, though, as it gives me a lovely excuse to write fan fic!


	14. The Nightmare Ends

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thank you to all that reviewed! Of course I couldn't kill Mithian! I've been leaving breadcrumbs along the way, ie I like happy endings and I hate character death. **

* * *

**The Nightmare Ends**

The journey back down the mountain was a long and arduous one, tired as they all were. Merlin trudged along, his arm around Mithian as they picked their way down the rocky trail. Arthur and Mordred took the lead, while Gwaine stayed at their flank. The five of them kept their senses on alert, wary of the possibility of any lingering Saxons.

"Can't you go any faster, Merlin?" Arthur teased after they'd been walking for about an hour.

"I'm tired," Merlin complained, even as his lips curled into an impish grin. Though things had changed so much between them, he still found it quite natural to slip back into his usual banter with the king.

"What could you possibly be tired from, _Mer_lin?" Arthur jibed, glad that Merlin couldn't see the smirk on his face from where the warlock walked behind him.

"Hmmm. Well, I haven't been mucking stables, that can't be it. I've not been forced to endure the smell of your training clothes after they sat rank and crumpled on your chamber floor. That can't be it. Oh, I know, how about summoning the White Goddess twice in one afternoon? Or maybe it was battling a High Priestess. Those are distinct possibilities."

"Nah, that can't be it," Arthur said, looking back at Merlin's playful scowl with a grin.

"Of course, you're right. That can't be why I'm so tired. I know! It must be putting up with _you_," Merlin said as though he'd solved a great mystery.

"You've used that before," the king argued.

"Yet it's still true," Merlin replied. It was Arthur's turn to scowl as Gwaine and Mordred laughed at his expense. Mithian tried valiantly to smother her grin, but she too was soon chuckling.

"Never a dull moment," Gwaine laughed, then all of them fell into a comfortable silence as they continued their journey.

The sun was dipping low in the sky by the time they made it off the mountain and it had been dark for nearly an hour by the time they stopped riding by the glowing light of an orb that Merlin had conjured to illuminate the path ahead of them.

As camp was being set up, Merlin found himself wearily wandering around by the light of another orb, looking for firewood, when a pair of soft footsteps approached him. Straightening as he picked up the last stick and added it to his precarious load, Merlin turned around to find Mordred standing there, an anxious look on his face.

"Can I help you with something, Mordred?" Merlin asked curiously, stifling the urge to excuse himself from the imminent conversation.

"I wanted to thank you," Mordred began.

"There's no need, you already have," Merlin replied, turning back to his burden of wood.

"I suppose I was just hoping to use it as an excuse," Mordred admitted, surprising the older warlock.

"For?" Merlin asked, shifting the sticks in his arms to carry them more easily. Mordred moved forward to take some of them, concentrating so hard on the wood that Merlin knew he was stalling.

"You used immensely powerful magic at the Cauldron today," Mordred finally began. Merlin shrugged.

"I did what I had to do," he said, deflecting the indirect praise.

"How did you learn such magic when you've been hiding your true nature for so long?"

Merlin nodded slowly as he thought of how to answer, understanding Mordred's curiosity.

"You have to realise, I've been using magic since before I could talk," Merlin said.

"You mean when you were very angry or scared?" Mordred asked.

"Or happy, or mischievous, or bored, or tired, or cranky, or any time I could get away with it, really," Merlin laughed, causing Mordred's eyes to widen in surprise.

"It was that easy?"

"Always has been," Merlin shrugged.

"I was just a foundling when the Druids took me to live with them," Mordred admitted. "I could do things when I was very young, but I had to be provoked."

"That is fairly typical, from what I understand. I'm not exactly your average sorcerer," Merlin replied ruefully. Mordred nodded and looked down at the wood in his hands, allowing his eyes to go unfocused as he allowed himself to drift through his memories.

"After Alvarr was captured, I ran and ran until I found myself lost, cold and starving in the middle of the forest. I was just thirteen summers. My cloak was gone, my clothes were in tatters and I was exhausted. I thought I was saved when I came across a bandit camp. But I was not with them long before I realized that they were bounty hunters. I knew that if they discovered what I was, I would have fetched them a very high price."

"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured, his throat tight at the thought that he had helped to put such a young boy through such an experience.

"I admit, I hated you for a long while," Mordred said, refusing to meet the older man's eye. "But I know now that you were just trying to protect Arthur. I cannot say that I would have done any different."

"How long were you with the bounty hunters?" Merlin asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Until you and Arthur found me. Our band had been hired by Morgana."

"In all that time, they never realized you were a Druid? No one ever noticed your triskellion?"

Mordred finally met the older warlock's eyes and pulled aside his tunic, showing a burn scar just below his collarbone. Merlin's brow furrowed, recalling the time when the young boy lay feverish in Morgana's chambers, his chest bare save for the tattoo that identified him as a Druid.

"You burned yourself?" Merlin asked sadly, his eyes locked onto the horrible scar that masked the inked skin. The young man nodded grimly.

"I could not risk them seeing it, so I hid who I was, denying my very nature in order to survive. I buried my magic down so far inside me that I have almost forgotten how to use it."

Merlin shuddered at the thought, looking at Mordred regretfully.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered again. "I cannot imagine how difficult that must have been."

"It was difficult, but we are free now," Mordred said in reply, shrugging his shoulders and smiling weakly.

"Yes, we are," Merlin agreed. Mordred looked at the older warlock imploringly.

"At best, I have a basic grasp of controlling this great gift I have been granted. Although I have gone a long time burying my magic, I never again want to feel the complete emptiness I felt earlier."

"You need to study. I'm sure we could find you a book," Merlin offered, thinking of the text that the goblin had tried to frame him with.

"I don't want a book," Mordred interrupted.

"Why not?" Merlin asked in honest confusion.

"I began learning as a young child with a mentor who worked with me, teaching me how to speak the words of the old tongue properly. I've never learned from a book."

"Then what do you want from me?" Merlin asked, his tired mind unable to follow Mordred's logic.

"I want to ask you, if _you _would teach me. If you would take me on as your apprentice."

Merlin stood, completely flummoxed, by Mordred's request. So often, he thought of himself as still learning. Though he was no longer living in the physician's chambers as Gaius' ward, Merlin still thought of the elderly man as his teacher, his mentor. Taking on an apprentice wasn't something he'd thought of as a possibility.

"I'm still learning myself," Merlin finally replied, though Mordred smiled.

"Cerdan, my first teacher, told me many times that the greatest of us never stop learning."

Merlin looked Mordred in the eyes, no hint of emotion giving his thoughts away.

"Is that so?" Merlin asked, one side of his lips quirking upwards slightly. It sounded just like something Gaius would say.

"Yes," Mordred confirmed. "I would be honored to learn from you, if you'll have me."

"I've never taught anyone before."

"I understand."

"I could be rubbish at it."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Ask Arthur, he'll tell you I'm rubbish at many things."

"I'm sure he would also tell me you are great at many other things."

"Only if I were near death," Merlin joked, though neither of them laughed.

"Will you teach me?"

"Why would you even _want _to learn from me? I've not been the nicest to you."

"Are you refusing then?" Mordred asked, his face crumpling in disappointment.

"I didn't say that," Merlin protested, his mind racing with the possibilities.

"What say you, then?"

"It would not be easy," Merlin warned.

"I don't imagine it would be," Mordred answered, his smile growing tentatively. Merlin looked expressionlessly at the young knight standing before him. The former Druid had been destined to join Morgana in an alliance of evil, which would in turn, bring about the death of Arthur.

Merlin thought back over the White Goddesses' reassurances that Morgana was no longer within this world. She was now in Avalon and unless Merlin was much mistaken, it would be quite impossible for Mordred to ally with her in any way while she was trapped there. Did it then follow that Mordred's destiny had been forever altered? Merlin was sorely tempted to call for Kilgharrah and ask what the dragon saw now, but decided against it, as Kilgharrah would likely only have more riddles than answers, if he gave them at all.

For now, Merlin decided to follow Mithian's example and judge Mordred on his current actions, rather than on something that ought to never come to pass. The former Druid had undeniably saved Arthur's life when he could have let Morgana kill the king in the caves of Ismere and earlier that afternoon, Mordred hadn't hesitated to pick up a sword and fight along Arthur's side. Without Morgana to possibly sway the young knight away from the king, Merlin had hope that he could actually teach the former druid to develop his gift fully without fear for Arthur's life.

Magic was on the cusp of returning officially; every barrier barring Merlin from trusting the young man seemed to fall away before his eyes. Mordred's earnest expression began to falter as Merlin took longer and longer to answer, but the older warlock gave a gentle smile, deciding to give forgiveness a try.

"Then I accept," Merlin answered, though his nose wrinkled as another thought occurred to him. "Just don't call me _Master. _You might be my apprentice now, but I hope, first and foremost, to be a friend."

"I think I can do that," Mordred said, falling in beside Merlin as they made their way back to the camp.

* * *

Arthur sat at the fire ring, watching in amazement with Gwaine and Mithian as Merlin and Mordred laid down the logs they'd collected and Merlin began what the king could only describe as a magic lesson. Arthur had always known that Merlin was intelligent, despite his occasional bout of foolishness. Though the warlock had, in his own way, taught Arthur many things over the years, the king had never thought of Merlin as a teacher. Yet the warlock was now going over the finer points of magically setting a bunch of sticks alight.

"Have you learned much of the Old Tongue?" Merlin asked the young knight.

"I never really progressed beyond finding my center and releasing my magic in emotional or defensive bursts."

"My mother would be the first to tell you that as a small boy, I delighted far too much in using my magic to set things on fire. However, I didn't actually learn the spells to do so properly, in a _controlled _way, until I came to Camelot."

"Hold on," Arthur interjected, pulling their attention away from the sticks they were about to ignite. "I always knew you were an idiot, Merlin, but do you mean to tell me that you came to Camelot, found out magic was banned on pain of death, _then_ decided to begin studying it?!"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Merlin groused irritably, rolling his eyes.

"What in the world possessed you to do it?" Arthur asked.

"Because I had to. The main reason my mother sent me to Gaius was to get my magic under control."

"Under control?" Gwaine asked, even as Mithian smiled, having heard this particular tale.

"I could bend it to my will sure enough, but it often bent _me_ to its will as well."

Arthur and Gwaine looked to one another in alarm before turning back to Merlin.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, imagining Merlin walking around like a puppet and shivering at the thought.

"When I was younger, my magic would often times react to an errant thought or gesture. Even though I was doing my best to hide my magic, it sometimes slipped out inadvertently. I became known as an odd child; some said I was cursed."

"That's why you really left Ealdor, wasn't it?" Arthur asked sadly. Merlin nodded.

"I meant it when I said I just didn't fit in. I never had many friends growing up, not because I didn't want them, but because they were afraid of me. Of course, that made them dislike me, especially when strange things happened around me. Eventually, even I started to fear my lack of control. I felt like a dangerous monster. I didn't really trust myself not to hurt anybody until I learned to harness my magic and focus it in more controlled, specific ways," Merlin explained.

"So you had the brilliant plan to come to a kingdom where magic was banned in order to learn the craft," Arthur said sardonically. Merlin grinned before looking at Arthur pointedly.

"It wasn't exactly my idea, but yes. Fortunately it worked and I learned control soon enough. Though certainly not before I met you. _You_ were more lucky than you can imagine that I didn't accidentally knock you _flat_ when you started swinging that mace at my head. I was _not _being cheeky when I said I could take you apart with less than one blow."

Arthur paled at the thought, having seen earlier for himself the extent of the power Merlin wielded; then the warlock continued, leaving the king feeling rather unsettled.

"You wondered how it was that I could be so clumsy and inept when you first started using me as a training dummy; it was because I was putting all my concentration into _not_ knocking you into kingdom come!"

"Lucky indeed," Gwaine drawled, smirking at the thought of the oft-repeated story of how Arthur and Merlin met.

"How about getting that fire lit? This stew won't cook itself," Mithian asked, gesturing to the waiting cookpot with a smile. Merlin smiled and immediately turned back to the sticks, piling them in the ring of stones neatly.

"There are a few different words that you could choose to start a small fire like this, but I think the easiest to learn and control is _forbearnan_," Merlin said, reaching out a hand and uttering the spell, immediately lighting the fire and helping Mithian settle the pot beside it. Merlin then held a stick out to Mordred.

"Go ahead and try to light the end of this."

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Mordred looked at Merlin questioningly.

"You have to _will_ your magic to do your bidding. Sort of like when you release it defensively, but keep it reined in and push your _intent_ into it, like this," Merlin said, holding out an open palm and saying the fire spell again. Immediately a small flame blossomed on his hand.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, standing in alarm and stepping towards the warlock before he realized that Merlin was sitting calmly, the fire burning, but not consuming.

"What?" Merlin asked, looking between Arthur and the flame in his hand in sudden comprehension, a sly grin on his face. "Were you worried about me?"

"No," Arthur immediately denied, sitting back down in a huff.

"Really? Because you reacted _just_ like my mother did when she saw me do this for the first time," the warlock said as he silently formed the flames into a ball and began to pass it from hand to hand. Merlin delighted in the indignant glare Arthur sent his way. Gwaine, however, looked rather envious as Mordred looked back to his stick and began whispering the spell again and again.

"Are you men, or boys?" Mithian said, her words firm, but her smile mischievous.

"Men will always be boys," Gwaine said shrewdly. "That's what makes us so loveable."

"That's debatable," Mithian said dryly.

"I did it!" Mordred exclaimed, holding up his burning stick giddily. Gwaine applauded his fellow knight.

"Good job. Perhaps you'll prove to be a faster learner than our esteemed ruler," Merlin praised. Arthur cleared his throat.

"That soup warm yet?" he asked, ignoring Merlin's remark entirely.

"It's barely had time to do anything," Mithian replied, but looked down in shock when it suddenly began bubbling and steaming.

"It's done," Merlin said cheerfully, looking cheekily at Arthur's open-mouthed shock.

"You really _are_ a lazy servant, aren't you?"

"No, actually," Merlin answered. "I'm an _advisor_ now, remember? And I _advise_ you to shut your mouth and eat."

Arthur glowered as everyone else chuckled at his expense.

"And I'm the king. I say shut your mouth and serve me a bowl."

Merlin raised an eyebrow and grinned cheekily at Arthur, but handed his king a bowl nonetheless.

* * *

Arthur sat beside the fire sometime later, joining Gwaine at watch. Mordred had fallen gratefully into his bedroll and was snoring within minutes. Merlin, too, had gone to sleep soon after supper, leaning against a tree with Mithian tucked snugly into his side. The king found himself looking intermittently in their direction, his mind swirling with the memories of that afternoon.

Merlin had shown a terrifyingly powerful side of himself that Arthur had never imagined possible. While he knew he didn't fear Merlin, he was unsure of how the people would react. Merlin hadn't been exaggerating when he had said that they would be reversing more than twenty years of hate and persecution. While Camelot had been the first, many other kingdoms had soon followed Uther's lead in dealing with magic and sorcerers. Would they be so quick to follow Arthur's example? The king sighed in frustration as that thought only led him to recall Merlin's fantastical tale about his destiny to unite Albion.

"What has you so bothered," Gwaine asked softly. Arthur looked at his most irreverent knight and chuckled humorlessly.

"You and Merlin are both rather inconveniently perceptive sometimes, did you know?" Arthur said. Gwaine smiled roguishly.

"It's all part of my charm, I guess."

"How can I hope to unite this land?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"Easy, you get his help," Gwaine answered, jerking his head towards Merlin's slumbering form.

"That simple?" Arthur asked facetiously.

"You managed to make peace with a man who was, not even an hour before, moments away from taking your head off. How hard could the rest be?"

"If only it _were_ that simple."

"I don't pretend to understand diplomacy, Arthur. I'm probably the last person around you'd want to take advice from. I prefer a good tavern brawl any day over some stuffy political reception. That's why you've got him," Gwaine said, gesturing towards Merlin once more.

"Destiny and all that rot?"

"Forget destiny. How about honor, nobility, brotherhood, friendship, ale, mead and all that rot?"

Arthur laughed, his heart feeling much lighter.

"Just when I think Merlin's wisdom is rubbing off on you as well..."

"Merlin can keep his wisdom; I'll stick to insolence and wit, thanks."

"Insolence, there is no doubt. You should probably reconsider the wit," Arthur said with mock solemnity.

Gwaine merely smiled and tossed another log on the fire, glad his attempt to pull Arthur from his worries had worked.

* * *

The king's party entered the city two days later with none of the secrecy they had left under. Arthur was glad to see the happiness of his people as he and the others rode through the streets towards the castle. Though the king couldn't help but wonder if that happiness would still be there when they heard of Arthur's plan to repeal the ban on magic.

Guinevere was waiting on the steps when they entered the courtyard; Arthur was hard-pressed not to jump off his horse and run across the courtyard to her. Instead he settled for riding to the bottom of the steps and catching her when she threw herself into his arms, then kissing her as he swung her around.

"I'm so glad to see you back," the queen said when she finally pulled back. "I trust your quest was successful?"

"In more ways than one," Arthur replied. "Mordred is himself again and Morgana is gone. Merlin defeated her at the Cauldron."

"She was there?" Gwen asked worriedly, her eyes scanning over the group gathering around them. Guinevere looked over them all, happy to see that Merlin at least, hadn't come home with any holes in his shirt. Then the queen looked over Mithian, tucked as she was into Merlin's side. Gwen gasped at the large hole that was in the princess' white traveling shirt.

"What happened?!" she demanded.

"Let's get inside," Arthur said with a soft smile. "We'll tell you everything."

* * *

Arthur wasted no time gathering his inner circle, the original Round Table. Gwaine was sent to summon the other knights while Arthur sent a servant to fetch Gaius. Mordred, Merlin and Mithian followed the king and queen to the royal chambers to wait for the others. Gwen looked around at their weary faces, her eyes once again lingering over the obvious hole in Mithian's shirt. The queen was a blacksmith's daughter first and foremost; she knew a blade cut in fabric when she saw one.

"You all look exhausted," Gwen said, wanting to pry the details from them but knowing that they were waiting for the others to arrive.

"It was a very eventful journey," Mithian allowed, smiling at Merlin ruefully.

"Eventful?" Gwen asked hopefully.

"We'll tell you everything as soon as everyone is here," Arthur said with a smile, knowing exactly what was on his wife's mind.

"We're here," Gwaine said, bursting into the room rather like Merlin always had. Arthur raised his eyebrow at the knight, but Gwaine merely smiled and led Leon, Percival and Elyan into the room.

"We're just waiting for Gaius then," Arthur said, just as the physician entered.

"You sent for me, Sire?"

"Yes, sit, we've an interesting story to tell and some plans to make."

Arthur then related the tale, with Merlin, Mithian, Gwaine and Mordred adding details. Merlin felt rather embarrassed when Mordred related his experience in the Cauldron, followed by what he observed of the Saxon's arrival. Gwaine and Arthur both gave their version of the fight with the soldiers. Once they got to Morgana's entrance into the battle, Arthur, Gwaine, Mordred and Mithian all looked expectantly at Merlin.

"What?" the warlock asked.

"It was your magic battle, you need to debrief us," Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, Morgana joined the battle, we traded words, we fought and I won," Merlin said simply.

"Merlin!" Arthur said, exasperated.

"Well, it's true," Merlin argued. Arthur narrowed his eyes at his First Advisor, waiting for him to elaborate. Merlin stared back, already unsure of how much he wanted to say. He had been rather angry when he'd thrown Morgana into the Cauldron, and that was something that he didn't like to dwell on.

"Why don't you relate to the others how you defeated her, and where she is now?" Mithian interjected calmly, laying an encouraging hand on her husband's arm. Merlin nodded, smiling at Mithian gratefully.

"I told you she had more control over him than you do, Arthur," Gwaine chuckled, putting his feet up on the table and leaning back. He yelped in quite an unknightly manner when Arthur grabbed his feet and tipped him back onto the floor.

"You were saying, Merlin?" Arthur asked cheerfully, ignoring the indignant glare from Gwaine as he righted his chair and sat back down.

"I fought with Morgana. She began with a spell that I suppressed, and then we just began to fight with raw, instinctual magic. I was wearing her down when she got desperate. She grabbed a sword from the ground with magic and threw it at Arthur. I stopped it, but it distracted me long enough for Morgana to grab another sword and throw it at me while I was protecting Arthur. That's when-" Merlin suddenly stopped, his face growing stormy as he clenched his fists at the memory.

"Mithian took the wound in your place," Guinevere said knowingly, Merlin's anger and Mithian's damaged shirt causing the pieces to fall into place in her mind. Merlin looked at Mithian and nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

"You are certainly two of a kind! Will you ever come back without either of you having been skewered?" Gaius asked, eyeing the warlock and princess with annoyance. Merlin chuckled humorlessly, smiling at Mithian before he took a deep breath and continued.

"When I saw what had happened, I was... angry," Merlin said hesitatingly.

"Angry?!" Gwaine chuckled. "You shook the ground, the water, the wind, and caused a bolt of lightning in the sky!"

The guilt must have shown in his expression, Merlin mused, because Mithian gave his arm a squeeze in support and Mordred called out _Merlin _mentally, drawing the warlock's gaze.

"You were provoked," his apprentice said softly, their conversation in the woods coming back to him. Merlin nodded gratefully and picked up the story again.

"I grabbed her with magic and I threw her into the Cauldron. There was a brightness that surrounded her and then she disappeared. I tried to heal Mithian, but I couldn't. I was too distracted to think straight. Then Mithian reminded me of the Cauldron's healing properties and I took her into the water to heal her. When I summoned the White Goddess while in the water, she told me that Morgana was sent to Avalon to atone for her crimes."

Merlin fell silent, unwilling to discuss the other things he saw while in the Cauldron with anyone but Mithian.

"That leads us to our next issue," Arthur began. "I intend to call the council and declare the ban on magic to be over."

"Are you sure the people are ready for such action? Would it not be better to introduce the idea to them slowly?" Leon asked.

"What are your concerns?" Arthur asked, wanting to ensure his course of action was the best one for Camelot.

"There could be some unrest over such a change," Elyan agreed logically.

"I've seen very few people actually speak hatefully of magic. Sure, there are a few here or there who really bought into Uther's rhetoric, but for most citizens, I think they are more afraid of the law than they are of magic. I think the people are more accepting of it than you'd think," Gwaine asserted.

"Accepting enough to _embrace _magic, though?" Leon questioned.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Percival asked eyeing his brother-in-arms questioningly. Merlin looked worriedly at the knight. He hadn't suspected the knight of any distrust or resentment and it didn't seem like Leon to hold a grudge for something Merlin had no control over.

"Personally, no. I've no problem with magic. Without it, I'd be dead many times over, I'm sure. I've only a problem when my king and kingdom are threatened by magic," Leon assured them. Merlin let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiled at Mithian when she gave his arm another squeeze.

"Like I said before; Merlin is the best argument around for the good in magic. The people know him and respect him. They trust him and his loyalty to Arthur enough to give magic a chance," Gwaine replied.

"I think the timing is appropriate," Mordred said. "The magical population should be considered in the timing as well. We've been feeling _unrest_ over the ban for long enough."

"That's right, you've been keeping secrets, too," Gwaine said roguishly. "Any neat tricks up your sleeves like Merlin here?"

"No, I've nothing along the lines of his skill," Mordred said, looking askingly at Merlin.

"That's why I've agreed to take him on as an apprentice," the warlock revealed.

"How will you do that as well as your knightly duties?" Leon asked.

"Well..." Mordred said, looking sheepishly towards Arthur.

"You will be allowed time for both. I think it will go a long way to showing that we're taking magic seriously," the king answered.

"Then you will go forward as planned?" Mithian asked hopefully, looking at Merlin's similar expression out of the corner of her eye.

"That is my desire," Arthur answered. "Gaius? You are the only one of us assembled here today that remembers a time when magic was a way of life. What are your thoughts on how the people will react?"

"I feel that the people might be disconcerted at first," Gaius added. "It is the only way many of them have ever lived."

"Keep the magic secret. It's all _I've_ ever known," Merlin said solemnly.

"And I," Mordred agreed. Gaius nodded sadly at the two warlocks and continued.

"Even so, I believe that the vast majority of the people will be relieved."

"How so?" Gwen asked.

"The pall of suspicion will be removed from anyone who so much as breathes the word magic. The fear of helping or working with strangers, lest they be sorcerers in hiding, will disappear. Especially with a figurehead in place to put limits and protections against dark practitioners."

"A figurehead?" Elyan asked curiously.

"Merlin, of course," Arthur explained. "I intend to give Merlin a title that has not been used in nearly thirty years, that of Court Sorcerer."

"Warlock," Merlin interrupted, grinning at Arthur. "I am a _warlock_, not a _sorcerer_. I would prefer Court _Warlock_, if you please."

"Alright, then," Arthur said, rolling his eyes even as he smiled. "Court _Warlock_. Shall we have the royal tailor fashion you a new hat?"

"No!" Merlin exclaimed, recalling the feathered monstrosity Arthur had once forced him to wear.

"No? I thought the feathers were rather fetching," Gwen teased. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the queen.

"You're supposed to be on my side in this, Gwen!"

"Your side?! She's _my_ wife! She's supposed to be on _my _side!" Arthur protested.

"Feathers?!" Mithian interjected, smiling at their antics.

"Official Camelot servant's garb," Arthur said, grinning at Merlin, "Has a wonderful hat to go along with it."

"No, it was not wonderful. It was horrid and it smelled of moths," Merlin argued.

"Whatever happened to that hat?" Gwen asked curiously.

"I burnt it," Merlin answered honestly. Arthur's mouth dropped open indignantly.

"Merlin!"

"What?! I had just drunk poison for you, I figured I could get away with it."

That sobered the king, despite Merlin's cheeky grin. Looking around once more at the weary expressions on the quester's faces, Guinevere interceded.

"Why don't we all get some rest? We've got a council to argue with tomorrow."

"Yes, a bed sounds lovely right now," Mithian agreed. Arthur nodded, looking around at his inner circle once more.

"Until tomorrow, then."

* * *

Guinevere watched silently as Gaius and the knights filed out of the royal bedchambers. Merlin and Mithian stood as well, moving more slowly towards the door, their hands clasped between them. Mordred stopped in the doorway and turned around, causing the warlock and his wife to stop.

"Thank you, again," the knight said simply, his eyes roving over Merlin, Mithian and Arthur.

"You're welcome," Arthur acknowledged, and Merlin nodded as well.

"Goodnight," the knight said with a small, grateful smile, before he turned and disappeared down the corridor. Gwen looked at Merlin and Mithian, standing quietly before the door, then turned to her husband. Arthur's gaze was directed to Merlin and Mithian's joined hands, an inscrutable expression on his tired face.

"Thank _you_, Merlin," Guinevere said, and Merlin turned around in confusion.

"For what?" the warlock asked.

"You not only defeated Morgana, but you brought Arthur home safe to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Merlin replied softly. "Goodnight, Gwen, Arthur."

With a soft snick of the latch, Gwen was finally alone with her husband. Seeing Arthur's exhaustion, Guinevere patted his hand and smiled.

"Let's get to bed, Arthur," the queen entreated and Arthur smiled tiredly at her, nodding his agreement. Gwen lovingly helped Arthur to remove his armor, setting each piece aside and finally helping him out of the heavy chainmail and gambeson. Arthur washed up as Gwen put on her own nightgown and finally the two of them settled into their bed. Arthur was quiet for a moment as Gwen laid against his chest.

"How are you doing, Arthur? Really and truly, how are you handling everything you've learned lately? It must have been quite shocking to learn that your closest friend has magic; are you sure you're not just burying your true feelings?"

"I am sure, Guinevere," Arthur answered softly. "I think that I've been willfully blind for many years. I've always known that there was something strange about Merlin. Even from our first fight in the marketplace. I think _that_ is what I've been burying all these years."

"What makes you think so?" Gwen asked curiously. Arthur took a deep breath and answered.

"While we were out searching for Mordred, I was forced to look more closely at things when we found the injured dryad. I started to put things together and I tried to ask Merlin about it. He was telling me all about how magic wasn't evil and about this grand destiny I've supposedly got when we were attacked."

"Is that when you found out about Merlin's magic?" Gwen asked, and Arthur nodded, his eyes going blank as he thought back on the memory.

"To my shame, I had a wave of bitter anger come over me when Merlin stepped forward and used magic in front of us. He was _protecting _us and the village and I was angry that he had lied to me, even though by that time I _knew._ He had as good as told me before the attack. But then he was shot by that arrow and my anger disappeared. All I could think about was the time he was injured on patrol and went missing for a few days. It was bad then, knowing that he could possibly be dead, but as Merlin fell to his knees with an arrow in his chest, I knew I could not watch him die. He had a reason for doing what he did, and he's been the best friend I've ever had. That's when I knew that the magic and the lies didn't matter."

"I'm proud of you, Arthur," Guinevere whispered, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips.

"For what? For not killing my best friend because of the way he was born? I'm not sure it's anything to be proud of. Plenty of people do the same all the time. What makes me this great king worthy of this grand destiny?'

"No, Arthur. For putting aside a lifetime of hatred. For accepting that your father's way wasn't always the best. For being the compassionate and merciful man that I know you to be. You are a great king, and I _know _you will be a _legend _in the annals of history."

Arthur couldn't help but believe her, Guinevere spoke with such conviction.

"As long as you're always by my side," he said, smiling at her sparkling brown eyes and gentle smile.

"Where else would I be?" the queen whispered, then sealed her promise with a kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin and Mithian met the king and queen in the corridor outside the council chambers, the four of them planning on entering together to show their solidarity. Merlin found himself unusually nervous as they walked into the room already occupied by the council members. All fell silent, knowing that Guinevere and Mithian's presence heralded a significant announcement. Guinevere did not miss the subtle glances towards her middle that the heir-hungry councilors did little to hide.

Arthur and Merlin took their places at the table after seating Gwen and Mithian beside them as everyone else took their chairs. Gaius rushed in at the last moment, his harried expression causing Merlin's brows to furrow in concern. He'd been so busy with his new duties and various quests that he'd not taken notice of how busy the elderly physician was.

As the doors were shut once more, Arthur stood and cleared his throat.

"I have news that shall bring great relief to all who sit here in this room and for all who live within the borders of this kingdom."

"I am assuming that this has something to do with your rather conspicuous absence of the last few days?" Lord Vidor asked, looking down his nose at Merlin with obvious disdain.

"It does, and you would do well not to interrupt me again," Arthur said, looking sternly at the mulish noble. "I am both saddened and pleased to be able to tell you that Morgana has been defeated. No longer will the people of Camelot suffer at her hands."

Instantly, the room erupted in a clamor as each council member began voicing their questions and disbelief. Arthur held his hands up, and slowly, the wary nobles calmed down.

"What assurances do we have that the witch has been defeated? More than once, her death was suspected, but time and time again, she seemed to rise again," Lord Perrin asked to numerous nods of agreement.

"I witnessed it with my own eyes. My absence, as Lord Vidor was so kind to point out, was for a good purpose. The training patrol that went missing several days ago was attacked by Morgana, as you well know. When I, Merlin and my best knights went to find Sir Mordred, who had been taken captive, we discovered that the young knight was under Morgana's control. Sir Gwaine, Merlin, Princess Mithian and myself set out some six days ago to cure Sir Mordred of the enchantment."

"How was it lifted?"

"This sounds dangerously close to magic!"

"How does this tell us that Morgana is dead?!"

"Gentlemen!" Arthur called, holding out his hands once more.

"Perhaps I could offer some explanation?" Gaius offered and Arthur nodded, relinquishing the floor.

Merlin sat, silent and anxious as Gaius explained the Teine Diaga and the need for the Cauldron's cleansing power. The warlock's mind wandered as the Lords of the council asked Gaius questions that came uncomfortably close to revealing Merlin's magic. While he was aware that revealing his magic was the point of this meeting, old habits certainly died hard. Merlin's foot began bouncing under the table and his thumbnail was soon between his teeth in nervous anticipation. Mithian placed a calming hand on his bouncing knee, helping him to find his composure when the most damning question was asked.

"How exactly was this 'White Goddess' summoned when there was no sorcerer among you?"

Merlin froze completely, realizing belatedly that he was holding his breath. With a nervous glance at Mithian, he finally remembered to breathe. Arthur could see the anxiety and fear in his friend's eyes and in his posture. It wasn't going unnoticed by the council members, either.

"It would seem that something is making your First Advisor very nervous," Lord Vidor drawled almost gleefully. He had been smarting after Merlin had turned his attempt to make the former servant look like a fool on its head; he was eager to return the favor.

"We did not, in fact, have a sorcerer with us," Arthur denied. Merlin looked at the king with wide eyes, afraid for just a moment that Arthur was going back on his promise to lift the ban.

"My Lord?" Gaius asked, similarly worried as Merlin. Arthur looked reassuringly at the physician and then at his First Advisor.

"As, I was saying, we did _not _have a sorcerer with us. We did in fact, have a _warlock _with us," Arthur revealed, much to the surprise of the gathered nobles. Merlin smiled in relief at Arthur, reminding himself that the king was a man of his word.

"A _warlock_?!" Lord Vidor asked with a wrinkled nose.

"A man who is _born _into his magical gift rather than by studying," Gaius interjected helpfully.

"Where in Camelot did you find such a man?" Lord Perrin asked.

"I found him where he's always been," Arthur began, meeting the eyes of every member of the council. "At my side, protecting me, protecting Camelot, and protecting each and every one of you."

"Who is this man?" Lord Vidor asked, though every eye in the room was quickly directed at Merlin. The warlock took a deep, centering breath, returning the gaze of everyone there before standing slowly to his feet. Merlin allowed the barest hint of magic to surround him in an invisible layer, projecting an aura of power and authority. The effect was subtle, but instantaneous. As one the council gasped and sat back further in their seats, awed by the change that came over the former servant.

"I am that man," Merlin said, infusing his voice with power. "I am the warlock the Druids call Emrys; it was foretold before any of you were born that I would be the guide and protector of The Once and Future King."

"This is an outrage!" Lord Vidor sputtered, his face paling as Merlin calmly met his furious eyes and raised an eyebrow. Arthur stood beside Merlin, looking each member of his council in the eye again.

"Three years ago, I rescinded my father's order to exterminate the Druids, which each of you agreed with. I said then and I stand by my words now that they are a peaceful people, and they deserve our respect. It is their prophecies that foretold Merlin's destiny as well as my own, to restore magic to the land and unite all of Albion."

Stunned silence fell as everyone processed Arthur's words.

"Unite _all _of Albion?" Lord Geoffrey asked in amazement. "It was an historic event when your father helped unite the five kingdoms. How do you intend to accomplish such a goal?"

"By first removing the ban on magic so that those with the gift can live peaceably. An announcement will be made after the noon bell tomorrow. Second, by reaching out to other kingdoms to create or strengthen our alliances as needed. This will, obviously, take some time as well as significant effort on our part."

Silence reigned over the room until Lord Geoffrey slowly stood up, looking at Arthur for a moment before he began to speak.

"I have witnessed many things in my tenure as Court Historian, Librarian and Genealogist. I lost many good friends in the purge and saw many families go into hiding."

Merlin watched in astonishment as many of the councilors began to nod their agreement, and a few scattered ayes echoed around the table. Geoffrey looked each man in the eye before continuing.

"When the purge began, I did not try to persuade King Uther against his chosen course of action, believing that his goal to end the corruption of power within the magic users of the day was a necessary one. To my regret, I still said nothing when innocent men, women and even children were executed and the citizens began to fear even the word magic. I had hoped that the king would come to his senses in time. In my cowardice, I felt that it would be unwise to voice any dissention, lest I lose my place on the council.

"But I have also witnessed many great things since you became king, Sire," Geoffrey said, addressing Arthur. "We have seen unparalleled prosperity in the last three years and I believe that your goal to ensure that our current peace and prosperity continues is a worthy one."

"It is indeed a worthy goal," Gaius intoned, drawing everyone's attention as Geoffrey sat back down. "We are witness to the rise of a new era. One of peace and prosperity, not only in Camelot, but all across Albion. One that has been foretold for more years than we can even imagine. I say, long live the king."

"Long live the king!" everyone repeated, though Lord Vidor looked as though his wine had been replaced with vinegar.

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur said, nodding gratefully to the proudly smiling physician.

"If you lift the ban on magic, how do you plan to avoid the corruption that caused the ban in the first place?" Lord Perrin asked.

"That is an excellent question, Lord Perrin," Arthur began. "In answer, I would strongly suggest that you all join us three-days hence when we instate Camelot's newest noble."

"_Another_ new noble?" Vidor asked distastefully; his opposition to Arthur's knighting commoners was well known.

"Yes. As Lord Perrin pointed out, we will need a _guide _as we enter this new era of welcoming magic within Camelot once again. Someone capable of showing others what the purpose and limits of magic should be to help us avoid the pitfalls of the abuse of magic that triggered the ban of sorcery in the first place. Merlin is just such a man; He is knowledgeable in matters of magic and he is of outstanding moral fiber. I will therefore be naming him as Camelot's Court Warlock."

Again the room erupted in a multitude of voices. Merlin sat back in his chair, rather stunned. When Arthur had said that he planned on giving him the title of Court Warlock, he had assumed it was just a job title, not unlike Gaius' as Court Physician, or his own as First Advisor. He hadn't actually expected Arthur to _ennoble _him! Though Merlin mused that he shouldn't be so surprised; he had just recently married a princess, after all.

"Order, please!" Arthur said sharply, silencing the various questions and protests of the council members. "I've given my decree; Geoffrey, please make note of it in the annals of the court that it has been so given, and send word to any Lords not in attendance today. Council dismissed."

Slowly, the members of the council filed out of the room, no doubt to spread the latest court gossip, leaving only Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin, Mithian and Gaius. Merlin sat unmoving in his chair until Mithian gave his knee a gentle squeeze. The warlock turned to the princess and smiled a nervous smile.

"Merlin? Are you alright?" Gwen asked.

"I think he's rather overwhelmed," Mithian chuckled.

"That's rather understandable, I think," Gaius replied, looking fondly at his former ward.

"What just happened?" Merlin asked, much to Arthur's great humor.

"You seem to be asking that question a lot lately, Merlin," the king laughed.

"You never said anything about being a noble," Merlin said accusingly, finally coming out of his shocked stupor.

"I said I was giving you a title," Arthur retorted.

"Yes, like First Advisor, or like Gaius is Court Physician."

"Shall I ennoble Gaius as well, then?" Arthur teased, looking at the elderly physician.

"No thank you, Sire, I'm quite happy with my lot in life. Though a new assistant would not be unappreciated."

"We'll get started on that, Gaius," Gwen promised. She too had noticed how frazzled Gaius had looked as he'd rushed into the council chambers earlier.

"Well, we've got a lot to do," Mithian said airily.

"What's that?" Merlin asked in confusion.

"First, we'd best send word to Ealdor. I don't think your mother would take too kindly to missing a moment foretold before your birth," Mithian explained.

"Perhaps this time you can convince her to stay?" Gwen asked. "I feel rather terrible keeping you so far away from her, what with Hunith being all alone."

"I think we can manage that," Mithian said, smiling lovingly at her husband. "But we've also got to get you dressed properly Merlin."

"What for?" Merlin asked, looking down at his clothes. They were of a fine make, though they were rather plain compared to the other courtier's wardrobes.

"You'll be on the balcony with the king and queen when the announcement is made, of course."

Merlin instantly paled. "What?"

"It's not that hard to understand, _Merl_in," Arthur teased. "You're going to be up there a whole lot more from now on. Besides, that will be nothing compared to the ceremony to make your appointment as Court Warlock official. There will be far more people attending that than those that will gather for an announcement."

"I think I liked blending into the background as a servant better," Merlin said. Arthur chuckled and folded his arms.

"Merlin, your days of blending-in are over."

* * *

"Elfa must have done a lot of talking at The Rising Sun last night," Arthur joked, looking mischievously at Guinevere as they stood just inside the balcony doors the next morning. They were all dressed in the finery required of a public announcement, which always made Gwen feel slightly overwhelmed. Merlin himself was wearing the coat Arthur had given him for the queen's coronation; the warlock kept absentmindedly smoothing down the front and pulling at the neck, the cut of the garment being a closer fit than he was accustomed to. Then Arthur startled them all when he suddenly growled softly and took off his crown, rubbing at his hair as he grimaced at the adornment in his hand. The queen looked sternly at her husband, but her eyes sparkled with humor.

Merlin rolled his eyes and stepped forward, yanking the crown away from the fidgeting monarch and patting his jacket pockets searchingly. Arthur huffed impatiently, rubbing ineffectually at his mussed hair. Gwen chuckled as Merlin's expression brightened as he pulled a broken-toothed comb from his inner pocket. Mithian and Guinevere chuckled as Arthur tried to fend off the former manservant's efforts to remedy the king's apparent lack of grooming.

"You're completely hopeless, did you know?" Merlin asked facetiously, winning the battle and dragging the comb over Arthur's head before unceremoniously plunking the crown back on the monarch's head. "Now stop touching it, or I'll make it so you can't take it off," he admonished, pointing a finger sternly at the king.

"You're not my manservant any more, you know," Arthur argued.

"Is that a defense or a complaint?" Merlin taunted.

"We'll always be servants at heart," the queen said, smiling fondly at her best friend as he stepped back with a grin and grasped Mithian's hand in his own. Guinevere looked over the sizable crowd still gathering below in the courtyard, recalling the nerves she had felt the first time she had stood on the balcony beside Arthur as his queen. Then Gwen looked back at Merlin. The warlock looked anxious, there was no doubt about it. If Mithian hadn't been standing beside him, holding his hand in a vice-like grip, Gwen was sure that he would have been pacing.

"I've never been on the balcony while you've addressed the people," Merlin murmured, looking at Arthur briefly before turning back to the window. "Inside here, or down in the courtyard, plenty of times. But never out where people could see me. There's so many of them..."

"It is a lot of people," Mithian agreed, pulling her husband's attention away from the crowd to lock eyes with her. "But that's a _good _thing. The more who hear the announcement straight from the king, the more readily the news will spread."

"It won't go anywhere unless we actually announce it," Guinevere said, glancing at the others once more before Arthur nodded.

"Sounds good to me," the king agreed, reaching for the door and opening it before Merlin could say another word. Silently, the four of them filed out onto the balcony; the king and queen went to the railing while Merlin and Mithian stood just behind and to Arthur's right. Merlin was relieved to see the swirling red cloaks of Arthur's best knights standing on the periphery of the crowd. The people cheered for their king and queen until Arthur raised his hand for silence. Almost instantly, a quiet, anticipatory hush fell over the courtyard.

"People of Camelot," Arthur began. "Today marks a momentous occasion. One which I hope will change the lives of many who live in and near our great kingdom. For more than 20 years, my father sought to eradicate magic from the land, believing it to be a plague upon our people."

Arthur paused, looking over the crowd; noble and commoner alike seemed to be holding their collective breath as the king's words sank in. Arthur looked back at Merlin and gave a brief nod before turning back to the crowd and speaking once more.

"I must acknowledge that my father was a broken-hearted, but mistaken, man. His efforts to create a safe and peaceful kingdom will not go unrecognised in our histories, but I cannot condone the deaths of an entire people.

"During my reign, I have given the Druids the respect and peace they deserve. I have not ordered the arrest or execution of anyone simply for possessing magic, but rather in response to their actions against the crown and Camelot. Just as I have done for every other man or woman who has threatened the peace and safety of our kingdom through means other than magic. I believe that it is our choices that matter, not the way we're born or choose to believe.

"The greatest such threat that we have seen in recent years was that of my half-sister, the High Priestess Morgana Pendragon. I can tell you all, that I have witnessed her defeat with my own eyes; only by magic was this possible. Therefore, on this day, I, Arthur Pendragon, lift the absolute ban on magic and sorcery. I propose that those with magic or those who wish to study such arts shall be fully allowed under the law. Those who should study the dark arts and thus use their gifts to hurt or gain unfair advantage over others will be tried and punished in the same manner as any non-magic user who commits a similar crime.

"It is long past the time for us to stop seeking to condemn our neighbors and cast suspicion on any new arrivals. There is, within each of us, a great potential for good. We must strive to work together to achieve the peace and prosperity that we desire. In that respect, I invite all who can, to join us in three days when I will be appointing my First Advisor, Merlin of Ealdor, the title of Court Warlock. It was he who defeated Morgana, and it is in him that I place my trust in magical matters."

Merlin stepped forward at Arthur's pronouncement, holding his chin high and returning their gaze as he felt every eye on him. There were some who looked frightened of the warlock, others who looked betrayed, but the majority looked utterly stunned. Cautious smiles and tentative nods began to filter slowly over the crowd, replacing the stunned expressions. Merlin smiled for the first time, then looked back at Arthur, who held out a hand to his First Advisor. Merlin accepted, and the men clasped forearms before the crowd in the ultimate gesture of acceptance. Arthur turned back to the assembled people with a triumphant smile.

"May you all go in peace."

For a moment after Arthur finished speaking, there was utter silence in the courtyard, until at the back of the crowd, a young man began clapping. One by one more and more people joined in, the applause growing steadily louder until it was a tumult of noise. Another man began whistling, only to be joined by others. A teary-eyed woman in the middle of the crowd began laughing in utter relief before wiping her tears away and shouting in a loud, carrying voice.

"LONG LIVE THE KING!"

The gathered throng took up the call, shouting until their voices grew weak. Arthur smiled happily at the citizens standing below, looking euphorically at Guinevere when he felt her hand slip into his and weave their fingers together.

Merlin stood rooted to the spot, silent tears of joy and relief streaming down his face in an unchecked torrent. Mithian wrapped her arms around him, crushing him to her as they met in a passionate kiss. A moment later, Merlin pulled back, smiling at his wife in utter joy. Mithian returned the favor, then turned to face the cheering crowd once more. The king looked proudly at his First Advisor, resisting the urge to punch the thin man in the shoulder.

"Is this what you always imagined?" Arthur asked the emotional warlock. Though Merlin surprised him by slowly shaking his head.

"No, Arthur, it isn't. It's so much more than I could have ever dreamed."

* * *

**A/N: Yay! Magic has been revealed! But, our story isn't done yet. Merlin and Arthur have a job to do afterall! Thanks for reading! ****I'm hoping that I'm not updating too fast for everyone, since these are long chapters. I do love hearing from you!**


	15. Ennoblement

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This chapter also marks the beginning of the third act, so to speak. I hope you all enjoy the ride!**

* * *

**Ch 15**

Once the announcement of the legalization of magic had been made and his nerves had finally receded, Merlin felt entirely spent. It had been a very long day, what with rising early to allow Mithian and Guinevere time to pull out each article of Merlin's new wardrobe and decide which would best serve the afternoon's announcement. Then they had begun the process all over again after they had come in from the balcony to find yet another ensemble for the ennobling ceremony in three days.

By the time the queen and princess had finished, Merlin was exhausted and he hadn't recognised more than a third of what had been pulled from his wardrobe. He couldn't help but wonder when Gwen had managed to sneak them into his cupboard. Then he remembered that he had spent a significant number of days out of the city in the last month. Gwen certainly had not been idle in that time.

After being the subject of such close scrutiny for the better part of the day, Merlin was anxious for some privacy. He was grateful that Gwen had the foresight to save the celebratory feast until _after_ he was officially instated as Court Warlock and that he and Mithian had declined the offer to dine with the king and queen that evening, choosing instead to take their meal in their quarters.

Their supper had been simple and quiet, the both of them comfortable with the lack of conversation. It seemed as though neither of them were eager for idle chit-chat. Merlin found himself pondering more and more of late about what he had seen in the Cauldron; he couldn't help but wonder if Mithian, too, had seen something. Finally, the princess put down her fork and leaned back in her chair.

"What has you so pensive and preoccupied?" Mithian asked, a gentle smile on her lips as she watched Merlin grin sheepishly.

"You noticed?" he asked, wondering in awe at how well Mithian knew his character after such a short time.

"I notice many things about you, Merlin. I always have, if you recall, but I do believe I've noticed even more since becoming your wife."

Merlin chuckled as he recalled the chagrin he had felt when Mithian had called him out on not liking her during her first visit to Camelot. Even then, she had certainly seen things more clearly than anyone else ever had. The princess had been the first person outside Arthur's inner circle to notice the unusual trust and respect that the king had in his manservant.

"I've been thinking about the Cauldron and what happened while we were there," Merlin admitted, looking into Mithian's eyes.

"You saw something, didn't you?" the princess asked. Merlin nodded, unsurprised by her perceptiveness.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Did you?"

It was Mithian's turn to nod.

"What was it?" Merlin asked curiously. Mithian's eyes unfocused as she thought back over that moment.

"It was remarkable," she began. "I saw my brother, though I have not seen him in nearly five years. He left before Arthur even took the crown. But he was here, and he knelt before the both of us... Then I saw a babe in your arms. The happiness on your face..."

Merlin smiled as Mithian trailed off, a gentle smile on her lips once more. Was it their child he was holding, Merlin mused, or a young heir of Camelot? He couldn't deny that having a child with Mithian was something that he had thought of rather frequently of late.

"Was that all?" he asked. The princess shook her head, though her brow furrowed in confusion.

"The last thing I saw, it was... unusual. I'm not sure how to describe it. It was as though I was looking on at the both of us. We were standing still, but the world around us was moving at an incredibly fast speed. It was almost dizzying."

"I saw that as well!" Merlin said enthusiastically. "It has occupied every spare thought since. I also saw the unification of Albion, Gwen heavy with child, and as you described, the both of us standing still while everything changed around us."

"What does it mean?" Mithian wondered.

"I have a theory... I'll have to ask Kilgharrah, but do you remember what he said about the magic I gifted you with?" At Mithian's nod, Merlin continued. "He said that when I gifted you with some of my magic, it had far-reaching effects that we could not fathom. He also said that my magic was different, that I was very much like him, a _creature_ _of_ _magic_."

"Yes, I remember," Mithian said in confusion, unable to make the connection that Merlin obviously had.

"I believe the key lies in his comparison between himself and me. Do you know how old Kilgharrah is?" Merlin asked.

"No, I assumed a few hundred years?" Mithian replied.

"I've never asked, but I know that he is at least a thousand years old, perhaps older."

"A _thousand_?!" Mithian exclaimed. "Or more?! And you're a creature of magic, _like him_..." Mithian trailed off, her eyes widening in sudden comprehension. Merlin nodded slowly.

"That's my theory," Merlin confirmed.

"Will you live forever?" Mithian asked, eyeing Merlin with some sadness. Merlin realized then that Mithian hadn't entirely followed him.

"I'm not sure, but I don't believe that I'm alone in my potential longevity," Merlin said, looking pointedly at his wife. Her eyes widened again as she gasped.

"You shared your magic with me! So...will _I_ live that long as well?" Mithian asked in wonderment.

"That is my belief," Merlin answered. "To be honest, when I first had the thought, I was afraid that I would outlive everyone and have to continue on alone. It nearly made me buckle under the weight of the realization, but then I remembered Kilgharrah's words. I'm not so apprehensive at the thought of living at least a thousand years, if I don't have to do so alone."

"It is a rather daunting prospect, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Merlin answered. Mithian's brow wrinkled.

"But we're not even sure that this is the case," Mithian reasoned. Merlin shrugged.

"It is just a theory. I suppose _time _will _tell_," Merlin replied, though the warlock had a feeling that it wasn't just a theory.

* * *

Two days later, Merlin woke out of habit just after sunrise. Reveling in the warmth and comfort of lying beside a slumbering Mithian, the warlock smiled and closed his eyes, glad of the opportunity that his new position afforded him to sleep a little longer. Wrapping his arm more snugly around the princess' waist and pulling her tighter into his chest, Merlin began to doze once more.

Then the sound of their door being flung open and hitting the wall with a crack rang through their ears. Both Merlin and Mithian sat up abruptly, their eyes casting about in the dim light of dawn that managed to seep through the gaps in the curtains. As Mithian hurriedly searched the side table for a makeshift weapon, Merlin threw a magical shield in the direction of their door. The intruder grunted as they came to a sudden stop, bouncing off the magical barrier and landing flat on the ground. Merlin willed the curtains open and looked down at the man as the battle-reflex began to fade and the warlock rapidly blinked the sleep from his eyes.

"Arthur?!" he asked in bewilderment as he recognized the groaning king on the floor. "What are you doing in here?!"

"Good morning to you, too," Arthur replied grumpily. Merlin looked at Mithian and shrugged as the princess returned his questioning expression.

"Good morning, Arthur," Merlin chuckled as he turned back to the king, who slowly sat up, shaking his head.

"Ugh..." the king groaned.

"What brings you here?" Merlin asked, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing at the monarch on the floor.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, standing up with a giddy smile on his face. "You'll never guess what Guinevere just told me!"

"I won't?" the warlock asked, looking at Mithian, who had a knowing grin on her face. Merlin raised his eyebrow at her before turning back to Arthur.

"She's been throwing up in the chamber pot every morning for a week!" the king explained excitedly.

"Lovely," Merlin replied, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "How kind of you to share, though I'm not sure Gwen would agree. Has she been to see Gaius about it?"

"You _idiot_, Merlin, that's not what Guinevere told me! She told me _why_ she's been throwing up, and Gaius said it was normal."

"Well, then, _that_ makes perfect sense," Merlin said sarcastically, looking questioningly at his wife when she began laughing.

"What?" Merlin asked, then he recalled a horribly embarrassing time about three years after he'd been in Camelot when Gaius had made him read a book on women's health needs. He'd had to assist the physician while Gaius was tending to a noble woman after the midwife had been accused of sorcery. The noble lady in question had been rather large with child and had needed to delay traveling back to her husband's lands until after she had been delivered. Then Merlin recalled the vision of Gwen he had seen in the Cauldron, looking quite similar to the lady in his memory. Mithian watched amusedly as awareness spread across his face when Merlin made the connection.

"Oh!" the warlock exclaimed, his smile wide and enthusiastic as he met his wife's sparkling eyes.

"Now you get it," she teased. Merlin turned back to the grinning king and raised his eyebrows in invitation, allowing Arthur to say what he had come to say.

"Guinevere is with child! I'm going to be a father and Camelot will have an heir!"

"That's wonderful news!" Merlin said as he stood up and went to Arthur, clapping his shoulder in support and congratulations. Mithian rose as well, donning her dressing gown over the thin nightdress she wore as she came around the bed to stand beside Merlin. Then Arthur's face turned from giddy grin to perturbed scowl.

"Hang on, you used magic to knock me flat!" Arthur said indignantly.

"What did you expect, charging in here at this hour like the castle was on fire?!" Merlin laughed humorlessly. Arthur opened his mouth to object, but then took a good look at the pair in front of him. It was only then that the king noticed Merlin's clothes. Though they were certainly of a higher quality than those he wore as a servant, they were very obviously _sleep _clothes, as were Mithian's. Arthur's cheeks were suddenly tinged pink as he glanced between Merlin and Mithian before his eyes flicked over the now-empty and still-unmade bed.

"You were still in bed," Arthur said stupidly, as though he'd only just been told that fact, even though he'd seen it with his own eyes. Merlin scratched his neck and nodded, though Mithian chuckled at the king's gormless expression.

"Well spotted, Sire," Mithian said impishly, reaching out and grabbing a hold of Merlin's hand as the warlock clamped down on his lip with his teeth in an effort to subdue the growing urge to laugh. Arthur's face grew a deeper red as he looked between the two of them and the bed.

He wasn't sure why he was so embarrassed; there had been numerous times that Merlin had seen he and Gwen still sleeping in their bed in the course of his duties as Arthur's manservant. They had been clothed then, just as Merlin and Mithian were now, but the thought of _Merlin_ having a _wife_ still seemed utterly foreign to the king.

"I just wanted to let you know," Arthur said awkwardly as he backed towards the door. "I'll leave you to it, then, I mean, don't let me interrupt anything, I mean, not that you were, well maybe you were, not that that's wrong or anything, because it isn't, I mean, oh, shut up, Merlin," Arthur rambled, turning abruptly on his heel and marching out of his First Advisor's chambers with his head held high. The king paused on the other side of the now-closed door, taking a deep breath to cool his warm face. He pretended not to hear it when Merlin and Mithian began laughing uproariously. He was the king, after all, and that was his perogative.

* * *

It was dinner time before Arthur could look at Merlin and Mithian without stuttering like an innocent page in front of a barmaid for the first time. Fortunately for the king, he had planned an extensive day of training with the knights. Unfortunately, Merlin showed up at mid-morning, smirking at the grimacing monarch.

"Whatever is the matter, Arthur?" Merlin taunted, chuckling as Gwaine took advantage of the king's distraction and scored a hit on his left arm.

"Absolutely nothing, _Mer_lin," Arthur insisted.

"Is that so?" the warlock chuckled.

"You do seem a bit distracted," Gwaine added grinningly.

"I am not distracted!" Arthur argued.

"Oh, right, of course not, I must have just tagged you in the arm because of my superior swordsmanship," Gwaine said.

"Absolutely not, I was distrac-" Arthur stopped himself, scowling at the knights who were all gathering around to join in.

"Impending fatherhood, that must be it," Elyan teased.

"Of course it is!" Arthur agreed readily.

"So it wasn't anything to do with being embarrassed from seeing Mithian and me this morning?" Merlin asked innocently.

"What?!" Gwaine asked, looking between Merlin and Arthur gleefully.

"They were dressed!" Arthur defended himself as the knights all roared with laughter.

"In our nightclothes," Merlin agreed mock-helpfully, adding to the knights' mirth.

"It's not like you haven't seen Guinevere and myself in the same position," Arthur argued petulantly.

"I was your manservant! It came with the territory," Merlin laughed. Arthur had no reply.

"Are we training or not?" the king asked his knights, turning back to the field and waiting for the knights to rejoin him. Merlin chuckled and settled on his usual bench beside the training field.

"Who would you like to duel next, Sire?" Leon asked respectfully.

"You," Arthur said, before looking over at Merlin and scowling. "Don't you have something advisorly to do?"

"Funnily enough, I don't, not when the king I'm supposed to be advising is busy playing on the training field."

"Playing!" Arthur exclaimed, his indignation growing. "I'll have you know that I work hard training!"

"Of course you do," Merlin said, smiling when Arthur huffed. The king turned back to Leon and did his best to ignore his former-manservant-turned-best-friend. After a few minutes, Arthur defeated his First Knight and looked triumphantly at the warlock. Merlin merely shrugged, as though he was unimpressed. He knew that Arthur needed to argue with him to get over his awkwardness left over from earlier. Fortunately, provoking Arthur into righteous indignation was something in which Merlin was rather skilled.

"I suppose you could do better?" Arthur asked, and again, Merlin shrugged. Percival and Gwaine traded a look, catching on to the warlock's intent.

"I don't know, Arthur," Gwaine interjected. "He did defeat Morgana with his hands practically tied behind his back. I'd say he's pretty deft in a fight."

"Not with a sword," Arthur said, smirking at Merlin, recognizing for himself what the warlock was doing.

"Well, if you insist," Merlin said, standing up and walking slowly out onto the training field. Arthur took up a central position as the other knights drew back a safe distance. Gwaine handed Merlin a sword, grinning.

"Go easy on him," the knight told Merlin, ensuring that his voice carried to where Arthur stood. The king rolled his eyes and gave his sword his usual twirl. Merlin copied the maneuver much less elegantly, but he managed to keep a hold of his sword. Arthur smirked at the warlock and the two began circling one another.

Merlin surprised the king by striking first; the two traded a few blows before breaking apart and circling once more. Arthur quickly realized that he was at a slight disadvantage. Merlin had been watching Arthur train for the better part of the last decade, sometimes joining in with a shield while Arthur used him as a target. But the king had not stood back and studied every nuance of Merlin's fighting style as the warlock had done to him. Arthur was stronger, slightly faster and certainly the more skilled of the two, but Merlin had surprise on his side.

Arthur went on the offensive then, striking high after feigning towards Merlin's legs. The warlock was barely able to block the blow in time, and the king pressed the advantage. Merlin quickly stepped backwards out of Arthur's range and the two men circled once more.

"Giving up?" the king asked, lunging at his advisor in two rapid strikes that Merlin was hard-pressed to block.

"Do I ever?" Merlin asked cheekily, making a play of his own. Arthur moved instinctually, his long hours of practice paying off. Within a moment Merlin found himself without a sword, staring down at the two that Arthur now wielded.

"Do you yield?" Arthur asked, remembering a time when Merlin had asked him the same question many years before.

"What, to you?" Merlin replied, echoing Arthur's indignant response.

"I have you at swordpoint, defenseless," Arthur argued.

"We both know that's not strictly true, Arthur," Merlin argued, looking at the king with a smirk.

"You would cheat in a duel?" Arthur scoffed.

"Is it really cheating when it's part of my nature?"

"Of course it is, you can't use magic to win in a sword fight!" Arthur argued.

"I can't, can I?" Merlin asked with a wicked grin, and Arthur knew he had said the wrong thing. Within seconds, his body was frozen and Merlin had disappeared. The king tried to look around him, but could only move his eyes. Then his invisible restraints fell away, causing him to stumble.

Only then did he realize that his hands were empty; he had no weapons. Looking wildly around him, Arthur finally spotted Merlin to his left. The warlock was grinning mischievously, his arms folded across his chest casually as his and Arthur's swords hung at the ready in the air beside him. The king's eyes widened further when he saw that Gwaine, Percival, Elyan and Leon's weapons were also hovering in the air beside the grinning warlock. The knights, Arthur realized, had been as captive as he had been.

"Do you yield?" Merlin asked with a wide smile. Arthur began to chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You used magic back then, didn't you? That's why I couldn't stay on my feet!"

"Of course I did," Merlin admitted. "You would have done the same if you could, trust me."

"How many times have I told you not to play with magic out in the open, Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes widened at the familiar voice and he turned around to face Hunith, who stood beside Mithian with a fond smile on her face.

"Mother!" Merlin exclaimed, letting all the swords drop to the ground with a clang as he rushed to greet her with a hug.

"You always did have to push the limits, didn't you?" Hunith chided softly, her eyes shining with affection.

"I can't help it," Merlin said, smiling at the oft-repeated defense.

"It's good to see you, Merlin," Hunith said, hugging her son to her again. "Especially so happy and so free."

Merlin smiled at the wistfulness in his mother's voice.

"I am," he promised. Hunith's eyes misted over and Merlin tucked her to his chest. "There's no need for tears, Mother."

"They are joyful tears, Merlin," Hunith argued. "There is every need."

"Hunith," Arthur greeted as he came to stand beside them.

"Your Highness," Hunith replied, bowing her head.

"Please, just Arthur," the king insisted. "Guinevere and I were hoping that you would consider staying in Camelot, now that Merlin is to be appointed Court Warlock."

"I've only ever known Ealdor," Hunith said uneasily.

"Merlin didn't know any different either, yet here he is," Arthur said with a smile and a punch to the thin man's shoulder.

"We would dearly love it if you could stay," Mithian entreated, smiling at her husband's mother.

"I suppose, if you were to have need of someone to watch over your children," Hunith said in utter seriousness.

"Mother!" Merlin laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink.

"It is a valid argument," Arthur said, grinning at how the tables had turned. "You _are _married, now."

"We've been married for little more than a fortnight!" Merlin argued. "Half of that was spent questing!"

"Well, you haven't exactly been _idle _the other half of the time," Gwaine added roguishly. Merlin's mouth gaped open, looking between a smirking Gwaine and his laughing mother in utter mortification.

"Then it's decided. We're glad to see you stay," Mithian said, sparing Merlin and taking Hunith's arm in hers and leading the way back to the castle.

* * *

As the sun began to set, Merlin found himself escorting Mithian and his mother to dinner with the king and queen. The warlock had hoped in vain to have another quiet evening to prepare for what was sure to be a chaotic day on the morrow. But Gwen had looked at him with her most pleading expression. She, too, had missed Hunith, and hoped to visit with Merlin's mother before things became hectic. Thus, they were headed to supper in the dining hall rather than their quarters.

"I'm afraid I'm quite inappropriately dressed for such a fine supper," Hunith said as she looked down at her humble dress. Though it was her finest, it paled in comparison to that of Guinevere's and Mithian's.

"Don't worry about it Mother," Merlin laughed. "With Gwen around, within a week you'll open your cupboard and wonder where it all came from."

"Surely not!" Hunith laughed.

"Trust me," Merlin insisted as the guards opened the door into the dining hall. "I told you how Arthur burned my clothes! I only just managed to save my neckerchiefs." Merlin pointed to the faded red cloth that adorned his neck, tucked beneath the higher collar of his new jacket.

"Only you would hold on to such rags," Arthur teased good-naturedly as they gathered around the table ready to take their seats.

"I told you, my mother made these," Merlin said, smiling at Hunith.

"You're a good son to keep them so dear," Gwen insisted with her own grin at the peasant woman.

"Yes, yes, Merlin's so wonderful, blah, blah, blah," Arthur groused, though he was smiling. "Except perhaps as a servant. You really were the worst servant ever."

"Well, what did you expect, it was essentially my third job," Merlin argued. "Protecting you always came first and helping Gaius was second. I'm afraid that tidying your chambers was usually left _last _on my list of chores. I did get better as the years passed, though, especially when things were peaceful."

"You were a good servant," Gwen agreed. "Arthur will never admit it, but he's practically lost without you."

"I am not!" Arthur argued. "George is very efficient."

"Efficient is one way to put it," Merlin laughed.

"He's a very... _skilled_ manservant," Arthur said. Merlin snorted.

"At least you never hid from me."

"I do not _hide _from George," Arthur argued.

"No, you just _avoid _him," Gwen teased.

"Can you blame me?!" the king asked indignantly, dropping his pretense. "The man made a joke about _laundry_ this morning!"

Everyone laughed, then tried valiantly to compose themselves as the kitchen staff filed in with supper.

"Speaking of your old jobs, Merlin, you wouldn't happen to have any recommendations on a good assistant for Gaius, would you?" Gwen asked as everyone began eating.

"I've been thinking about it, actually, but there haven't been many prospects for the job. A young man would be good, someone who could take my old room and provide assistance when Gaius has patients over night. Unfortunately, most of the young men in town are already being apprenticed or they're working in the fields. A physician's job is not always the most appealing, unfortunately. I can help where I can as needed until we find someone and they are taught up a bit."

"You are very soon going to have very little free time," Arthur interjected. "Being Court Warlock, you are going to be responsible for the drafting of magical laws in addition to our magical defenses. Geoffrey promised me earlier that he's got stacks and stacks of scrolls for you to go through and rewrite for our situation."

"Sounds like _fun_," Merlin said sarcastically, though he suddenly felt like he had a stone in his gut.

"I'll help you," Mithian promised. "I may not read the old tongue, but I can learn and I certainly know how to wade through law books."

"That would be excellent," Merlin said, smiling at his wife.

"Just don't get distracted while you work," Arthur chided teasingly. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I could help Gaius some," Hunith answered softly. "I'm not as gifted as my uncle is with herbs, nor am I as fast a learner as Merlin, but I can help."

"That would be excellent, Hunith," Gwen said warmly.

A few minutes later, after the next course had been served, everyone looked up questioningly when the doors opened and Leon strode into the room with Elyan, a young boy held between them.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked, rising to his feet and coming around the table to meet his knights.

"This young man was just found trespassing in the palace kitchens," Leon answered, his voice stern, though his eyes compassionate.

"Was he alone?" Arthur asked.

"He was," Leon confirmed. "He denied any accomplices, and a search of the area revealed no one out of place within the palace."

"How did you get in?" Arthur asked the boy, who shrugged.

"It wasn't hard."

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing as the boy merely shrugged again. "Did someone help you get in?" the king pressed.

"No," the boy denied.

"Then how did you get past the guard?"

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted as he also stood and moved to the king's side to continue his explanation in a low murmur that only Arthur could hear. "He's telling the truth. It's really not that hard. I used to do it all the time."

"I trust you'll be telling me about such clandestine activities soon?" Arthur muttered quietly as he looked at Merlin in part annoyance and part respect.

"Of course," the advisor replied, turning to the knights once more and taking in the boy's disheveled state. "Audrey caught him, didn't she?" the warlock asked with a wince. The boy looked sheepishly at his feet.

"Yes," Elyan answered, eyeing the young man sympathetically.

"Her ladle may not be sharp, but it has a good deal of sting," Merlin chuckled. He'd certainly felt that sting plenty of times himself. The boy nodded in wide-eyed agreement.

"What were you doing in the kitchens?" Merlin asked gently; Arthur folded his arms but did not protest Merlin's continuation of the interrogation. The boy stared at his feet, refusing to speak.

"It appears he was mainly after food, Sire," Elyan said, looking at Arthur while Leon nodded in agreement. The king's posture instantly relaxed as his eyes softened, recalling his instructions to Lord Vidor in just such a situation.

"Thank you, Leon, Elyan. You may go," Arthur said and the knights both returned to their duties with a nod. After the doors shut, the king looked at the terrified young man standing alone beside the table.

"What is your name?" Arthur asked, eyeing how thin the young man was. Scrawnier even than Merlin had been when he first arrived. Arthur's brow wrinkled when the boy mumbled something to the floor.

"What was that? Lift your head up and speak clearly."

"Daegal," the boy said, meeting the king's eyes with a fearful expression.

"Why were you trying to take food?" Arthur asked as Gwen, too, stood to her feet.

"Are you hungry?" the queen asked. Daegal nodded.

"Do you have any family?" Arthur probed curiously. The boy was old enough for work, but not old enough to be on his own. Daegal shook his head.

"My father died three winters past."

"What of your mother?" Gwen asked, touching her stomach subconsciously.

"I never knew her. She had magic, so..." Daegal trailed off, leaving out the obvious. Arthur's brow furrowed in sorrow and empathy.

"Do _you _have magic?" Merlin asked softly. Daegal shook his head quickly, his eyes panicked.

"It's all right if you do," Arthur assured the boy, though Daegal did not seem convinced.

"Truly, you will not be harmed for having magic," Mithian said, coming to stand beside her husband as he conjured a small orb of light to toss around in his hands.

"See?" Merlin asked, looking pointedly at the passive king as he continued to manipulate the blatantly magical sphere. Daegal seemed to relax then, though he continued to shake his head.

"My father never let me try because of what happened to my mother, but I don't think I have any sort of gift with magic."

"You must be hungry to have been sneaking into the kitchen. Please, come and eat," Arthur entreated. Daegal's eyes grew wide.

"What?! No, I couldn't," he said, though he eyed the fine food hungrily.

"You are hungry, correct?" the king asked. Daegal shrugged. "You may as well sit down. I can't just let you go, you were caught trying to steal. We've got to work out what we're going to do with you to keep it from happening again."

"Please don't put me in the dungeons," Daegal said in a small voice.

"No one said anything about the dungeons. Come, have a seat and eat, we insist," Gwen said, and Hunith stood to pull out the chair next to her.

"You can sit here," Hunith said, eyeing the boy with stern affection as only a mother could. Daegal nodded and sat obediently, as did everyone else. Merlin smiled, knowing exactly how hard it was to disobey his mother. A servant brought another plate and Hunith instantly started loading it from the selections at the table, filling the plate to capacity. Daegal began to eat ravenously as soon as the plate was put in front of him.

"Not too fast," Merlin warned. "We don't want you to lose it as soon as you've eaten it."

Daegal nodded, slowing down and drinking deeply from the goblet that was placed in front of him.

"Have you any work?" Arthur asked. Daegal shook his head.

"Not anymore."

"But you did before?" Gwen questioned kindly. This time Daegal nodded.

"I helped with the planting in the spring. I was supposed to help bring in the harvest, but the field master told me no. Didn't want no scrawny waif fainting in his fields he said. No one else is interested in a half-starved peasant with no family to speak of."

Arthur's face clouded in consternation. "What did your father do? Perhaps we could seek employment for you in his trade."

"My father grew herbs for the apothecary before he died."

Mithian looked between her husband and the boy with a thoughtful glance. They were both of a slender build, neither of them truly suited for farm work.

"How do _you_ like herbs?" the princess asked.

"Me? Herbs? They're alright, I suppose," Daegal answered.

"Excellent, I've a job for you then," Arthur said with a pleased grin.

"What?!" Daegal asked, dropping his fork in shock.

"My Court Physician recently lost his assistant to a promotion," Arthur explained, nodding towards Merlin, who smiled and gave a little wave. "Gaius is an elderly man now and he needs an assistant. An apprentice, to be more precise."

"And you want me?" Daegal asked, looking before each of them in turn.

"Why not?" Gwen asked, smiling.

"I've no connections, no money, nothing. Isn't there some noble's spare son who could do the job?"

"I believe in giving opportunities to whomever is worthy and deserving; their birthright has no part in it. Besides, you can count it as your recompense for trespassing in the palace and trying to steal. You know herbs already, correct?" Arthur asked. Daegal nodded.

"Yes. I helped my father with the planting, harvesting and drying."

"Then you are already more skilled for the position than any noble's spare son," Arthur argued. "The job is yours, unless you would prefer mucking out my stables as your recompense?"

"No! I... I mean, yes, I would love to apprentice with the physician," Daegal answered with a disbelieving smile, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Excellent," Arthur beamed. Guinevere smiled at the boy gratefully.

"You're truly doing us a great service in taking the position," the queen explained.

"As soon as you're done eating, I'll show you to Gaius' chambers. You'll have a room there," Merlin said, smiling encouragingly.

"A room?" Daegal asked in awe.

"Of course. You'll need to be on hand in case a patient is there overnight or comes in during the night," Merlin explained.

"Thank you," the boy said, looking around at the others seated at the table.

"Best finish your meal then," Hunith chided with a motherly smile. Daegal grinned, looking happily at each of the others before tucking back into his plate.

"It seems that's one problem solved," Gwen said cheerfully.

"Now we just have to get you ennobled tomorrow, Merlin. There's sure to be a good turn out. Loads of people to stare at you, waiting for you to trip over your own feet as you approach the dais," Arthur teased.

"Don't remind me," Merlin moaned, covering his face in his hands and sinking low in his seat.

"And miss this reaction?" Arthur teased.

"You love to torment me, don't you?" Merlin asked, glaring ineffectually at the king.

"It took you long enough to figure that out," Arthur chuckled.

"I think I figured it out the second time I met you and you decided to swing a mace at my head," Merlin replied. Arthur laughed.

"You enjoy tormenting me just as much. I seem to recall tripping over a lot of things during that fight."

"Well, you were swinging a mace. At my head!"

"You still cheated that day," the king argued.

"It's not cheating when you're born with it," Merlin retorted.

"Merlin!" Hunith scolded, eyeing the two men like they were squabbling children. The warlock bit his lip and resisted the urge to argue that Arthur had started it. The king grinned at Merlin mischievously, his eyes dancing at the expression on the warlock's face. Then Hunith turned her stern gaze on Arthur and the king's smirk was instantly wiped off his face. Monarch or not, he knew a scolding glance when he saw one. Merlin looked over at Daegal, glad to see the boy was trying rather ineffectually to hide his grin. The plate in front of the young man was nearly empty, but he was eyeing it ruefully.

"All finished then?" Merlin asked. Daegal looked gratefully at the warlock and nodded.

"I can't eat another bite."

"Come with me then and I'll introduce you to Gaius," Merlin instructed.

"I'll see you in our chambers," Mithian said, smiling at Merlin as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Best not keep her waiting too long, Merlin," Arthur teased.

"I wouldn't dream of it," the warlock replied, ushering Daegal from the room before he looked back at Mithian with a playful glint in his eye. Arthur grimaced at the look that passed between Merlin and Mithian.

"I don't think you'll have to wait too long for those children to mind, Hunith," Arthur said, chuckling. Gwen rolled her eyes and elbowed her husband as Mithian's cheeks turned pink.

"_You_ don't have too long before _you'll _have a child to mind," the queen argued as Hunith and Mithian laughed delightedly. Arthur's face went blank for a few minutes before he brightened.

"That's what Merlin's for! I'm sure he's excellent at child-minding," Arthur answered, grinning widely.

"Excuse me," Mithian laughed, looking impishly at the king as she stood and prepared to take her leave. At the door, she turned back with a serious, yet curious expression.

"How can Merlin mind your _children_, when he's busy minding _you_?"

* * *

It had taken Merlin longer than he expected to explain the situation and introduce Daegal to Gaius. The physician had been delighted to have an apprentice once more. Mentoring Merlin had been far more fulfilling than Gaius had ever thought possible; though the physician couldn't deny that Daegal's _lack_ of destiny was rather relieving.

Merlin chuckled at the sheer relief that had shone on Gaius' face when the elderly man had said as much while his new ward settled into his room. The warlock had also recalled a certain book hidden beneath the floorboards of his old room that he hadn't wanted to move until he had been announced as a warlock and the ban was officially lifted. Daegal's eyes had widened comically when Merlin had lifted the magic book from its hiding place. The warlock had contemplated bringing his Sidhe staff along with him as well, but felt that it would be safer for now concealed in the floorboards. However, Merlin did enchant the hiding place to open only at his touch, preventing any overly-curious young men from finding the magical staff.

As Merlin finally entered his rooms, he winced at the loud creak of the door that echoed through the darkness. The fire was nearly out, leaving even less light to see by. Merlin muttered a few words under his breath and instantly the fire grew larger, allowing Merlin to make out the outline of the table where he lay the book before quietly moving towards the bed.

"So stealthy!"

"Mithian!" Merlin exclaimed, his eyes seeking out where his wife was sitting on their bed, a fond smile on her face. "I didn't expect you to be awake."

"Yet here I am," Mithian said cheerfully. "Come to bed, Merlin."

The warlock smiled and moved to change into his nightclothes.

"Is the boy settled in?"

"Yes, I think Gaius was quite pleased, as well," Merlin chuckled as he put his clothes in the basket and climbed into bed beside his wife.

"You seem pleased as well," Mithian mused.

"I am," Merlin said, smiling coyly at the princess.

"What has you smiling in such a scandalous manner?" Mithian chuckled.

"Hmm. I think it may be the beautiful woman in my bed," Merlin said with false innocence.

"There's a beautiful woman in your bed?! Sound the warning bell, there's an imposter in Camelot!" Mithian teased.

"I certainly hope you are no imposter," Merlin drawled.

"Oh? Why's that?" Mithian asked, her heart beating faster as Merlin leaned closer and closer to her.

"Because then this really _would_ be scandalous," Merlin replied, finally capturing Mithian's lips with his. After a few moments, Mithian pulled back to catch her breath.

"Scandalous, indeed."

"Shall I go ring the warning bell?" Merlin laughed delightedly before Mithian silenced him.

"Shut up, Merlin," the princess demanded impishly, leaning in to kiss her husband again. Merlin was never so happy to follow that particular instruction.

* * *

The next morning dawned too early for Merlin's liking. The nerves that Mithian had quite successfully chased away the previous night were back full force. The warlock found himself pacing their chambers agitatedly as Mithian ate her breakfast with a fond eye on her husband.

"Is this what you did on our wedding day?" Mithian asked in amusement.

"No actually, I was far less nervous for that," Merlin admitted.

"Well then, this is no different," Mithian assured him.

"But it is," Merlin refuted, stopping his pacing to look at his wife. "I knew that I wanted to marry you and I know that I want this too, but this is going to be such a responsibility. I am going to be in charge of drafting laws! I am little more than a peasant farmer-turned-manservant! How am I going to do this?"

Mithian smiled and stood, walking around the table to grab Merlin's hands and look reassuringly into his eyes.

"You are far more than a peasant farmer who became a manservant. Why else would a king offer his daughter to such a man, if he were not worthy of her?"

"Because of my charm?" Merlin joked. Mithian smiled.

"Do you remember what I said last night?"

"'Scandalous, indeed?'" Merlin asked playfully.

"Before that," Mithian chided with an impish grin. "I said I would help you and I meant it. I've had law writing and responsibility and leadership drilled into my head just as thoroughly as you had _keep your magic secret _drilled into yours. It is a daunting task you face, but you are _not_ alone in your endeavors. Perhaps marrying me was Fate's favor to you for forcing so much upon your shoulders."

Merlin smiled as his heart slowed its rapid pulse and his nerves were calmed. In just a few words, Mithian had managed to do what he couldn't- restore his confidence.

"Now, let's get you dressed," Mithian entreated, laughing at Merlin's sudden frown. The warlock was not pleased with his new ceremonial garb. It was heavy and stiff, and nearly as ornate as Arthur's kingly adornments. The tunic was a deep blue with silver embroidery at the cuffs. His trousers were black, as were his boots, but what Merlin found the most embarrassing was the dark blue cape that Arthur had insisted was necessary. The warlock was sure that the king had insisted on the item in question simply because Arthur detested his own ceremonial cloak and was happy to share his misery. Merlin's was neither so long nor as elegant as the king's, but it was still quite heavy as Mithian set it upon his shoulders.

"I think you're ready," Mithian murmured lovingly, stepping back to admire her husband.

"Thanks to you," Merlin replied. A soft knock sounded, followed momentarily by Gwen's head peeking around the door.

"The court is assembled and the hall has been opened to the citizens," the queen said, opening the door fully to allow entry, revealing Arthur standing behind her, every bit the king in his fine clothes and crown.

"Are you ready, Merlin?" the king asked, a pleased expression on his face.

"As I'll ever be," the warlock answered as he nodded his head.

"Let's get down there and make you a nobleman, then," Guinevere said with a happy grin. Merlin laughed nervously.

"You make it sound so simple."

"Well, it can't be any harder than going from a blacksmith's daughter to the Queen of Camelot, now can it?"

"You're right, of course, Gwen."

An urgent knock at the door pulled the three of them from their discussion.

"Come in," Merlin called out curiously. A breathless soldier entered the room, his eyes seeking the king.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, his tone commanding.

"My Lord, there is a group of riders approaching. They bear the colors of Nemeth, Sire, and it would appear that King Rodor is among them."

"My father?!" Mithian asked in surprise, looking at a wide-eyed Merlin. "I'm sure he's come to congratulate you and witness your ennobling."

"I certainly hope that's all he's come to witness," Merlin said, laughing awkwardly at the prospect of seeing his father-in-law now that Merlin had been revealed as a warlock.

"Show King Rodor to the antechamber of the great hall. We'll be down momentarily," Arthur instructed and the soldier made a hasty retreat to ensure that it was done. The king turned back to Merlin, whose face had paled at the news.

"_He_ offered my hand to _you_, remember? He can't fault you for not telling him about your magic. Not when I knew of it before we wed," Mithian assured her husband.

"Everything will work out," Gwen said, eyeing Arthur pointedly.

"Of course it will," the king agreed.

Let's get on with it then," Merlin said nervously, holding out his arm for Mithian and following the king and queen through the back hallways to the antechamber of the great hall. Arthur and Guinevere entered first; Gaius, Hunith and King Rodor stood waiting. The physician and Merlin's mother beamed at him as he entered, though Rodor's expression was inscrutable. The low din from behind the closed doors was audible in the small room. Before he knew it, Merlin's heart was in his throat as his nerves rose even higher.

"I'm so proud of you," Hunith said, coming to give her son a hug, careful of the fine clothing he was dressed in. Gaius approached next, his eyes tellingly moist and red.

"You've come closer and closer to your destiny in these last few months. I've watched you grow over the years from a bumbling fool into the wise man you are now. Well done, Merlin," the physician said, giving Merlin's shoulder a squeeze.

"Thank you, Gaius, Mother," Merlin whispered, too choked up to speak with any volume. They nodded, giving one last hug and a pat to the shoulder before they went to take their places in the great hall. Finally, Merlin turned to the man whose eyes he'd been avoiding since he entered the antechamber. Silence stretched between them for several moments until finally Rodor spoke first.

"It would seem that you are even more uncommon than I originally believed."

"I suppose that's true," Merlin answered, reminded of his first interrogation by Rodor at the fireside of their camp amongst the ruins. Warlock and king looked one another in the eye, neither saying anything for a full minute.

"I have only one question," Rodor finally said. Merlin raised an eyebrow curiously.

"And I will answer, gladly."

"Did you conceal this secret from my daughter?"

"I hid nothing from her," Merlin answered, his voice firm and confident as the fear of Rodor's reaction vanished. The king of Nemeth looked to Mithian inquisitively.

"I knew from before your offer of my hand," Mithian confirmed. For a moment, Rodor looked between the two of them with an inscrutable expression. Finally his eyes softened and he stepped closer to Merlin and held out his arm. The warlock's eyes shifted between Rodor's face to his offered hand for a second before Rodor smiled for the first time. Merlin laughed in genuine relief and accepted the peace offering, grasping the king's arm with a smile.

"Then I must congratulate you," King Rodor said, clasping Merlin's forearm firmly.

"You do not disapprove of my having magic?" Merlin asked in wonder.

"If I did, then I would be a terrible hypocrite," Rodor explained boldly.

"Father?" Mithian asked curiously.

"Mithian, my heart, you are not the first of our family to marry a sorcerer."

"What?!"

"My mother had the gift of magic," Rodor explained. "Thus it gives me great pleasure to see these events unfolding."

"Truly?!"

"Yes."

"Why did you never say anything?" Mithian asked.

"Even though I did not inherit the gift," Rodor began, "The fact that my mother had magic was not discussed after the purge began. It was not well known outside the family and we did not want any suspicion cast upon your brother or you. Nemeth is a small kingdom; we had little hope of opposing Uther's decrees, so we went along and conveniently forgot to enforce them. Have you _ever _known me to order an execution on the basis of having magic?"

Mithian shook her head in wonder, a disbelieving chuckle tumbling from her lips.

"Thank you," Merlin said, a great weight lifting from his shoulders.

"I believe the thanks lie with you," Rodor protested. Merlin could only smile gratefully.

"Are you ready?" Arthur asked in the ensuing silence. Merlin met his eye and took a deep breath. Arthur's expression was a combination of pride, brotherly antagonism, and friendship. Merlin could only nod, overwhelmed as he was. Then Arthur's noble demeanor melted as he chuckled at his best friend; the man he saw as his brother.

Merlin gasped in shock when Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him into an impromptu hug, thumping his back for good measure. The king stepped back, his courtly expression back in place as he allowed Merlin to compose himself.

"Who are you and what have you done with Arthur?" Merlin asked in mock bewilderment.

"Don't be a cabbage head," Arthur teased.

"Everything is prepared," Gwen murmured, smiling at her two favorite men.

Merlin turned to Mithian, swallowing the lump in his throat as his wife smiled at him and grabbed him in a fierce embrace, crushing him to her as he struggled to remain composed.

"You're ready," Mithian whispered, giving Merlin a swift kiss before pulling back. "I'll be there in the front."

Merlin watched her enter the hall, escorted by her father, before taking a deep breath and looking to both Arthur and Gwen.

"I'm ready," he confirmed, his voice finally strong and clear. Arthur smiled and gave a quick nod, taking Guinevere's hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as he turned towards the double doors. The guards pulled them open just as Arthur and Guinevere reached them. The gathered crowd fell silent as the king and queen entered the hall and made their way to the dais.

The doors shut after them with a soft thud; then Merlin took up his position, waiting for his turn to enter. Dimly, the warlock could hear Arthur's voice carrying across the gathered crowd, giving the speech he had prepared explaining the position that Merlin was to be appointed to momentarily.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality just a few minutes, the guards at the door nodded to the warlock and opened the wide entryway just as Arthur's voice called out, "Merlin of Ealdor, First Advisor of Camelot."

As one, the people turned to watch as he began his journey to the front of the hall. The round table knights stood just behind Hunith, Gaius and Mithian. The knight's red cloaks were crisp and their chainmail had an extra sheen in honor of the occasion. Mordred had a place on the aisle, owing to his position as Merlin's first apprentice. The warlock concentrated on moving forward, trying to block out the sheer magnitude of the size of the crowd as he stared straight ahead. Slowly, the people turned as he passed them, and finally, Merlin reached the steps of the dais. Arthur stepped forward, signaling for Merlin to kneel.

As Merlin did so, Arthur stopped just in front of him, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword as he held out a golden scepter with his right hand.

"Merlin of Ealdor, you have been judged and have been found worthy of the position and title of Court Warlock of Camelot. Are you prepared to take oaths to such ends?"

"I am," Merlin said, his voice strong and unwavering, despite the rapid pulse of his heart. Gripping the scepter with his right hand, Merlin looked unwaveringly at his king.

"Do you solemnly swear to protect, guide and teach the magical peoples of this kingdom and its dominions according to the statutes, customs and laws laid down by your forebears, as has been foretold since before your birth?"

"I do, Sire," Merlin promised, respectfully using the title for once.

"Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgments?"

"I do, Sire."

"And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?"

"I, Merlin of Ealdor, Emrys of the Druids, do pledge myself to your service for the protection of you, the kingdom and all her peoples, both those with and those without magic. I do solemnly swear to do so with all my heart and strength, until the last breath leaves my body."

"Then from henceforth, you shall be afforded the rank of a nobleman as is fitting for your duties in your position. Rise, Lord Merlin of Ealdor, Emrys of the Druids, Court Warlock of Camelot."

Arthur held out his hand, pulling Merlin to his feet as the crowd broke into thunderous applause. Merlin gave the king a nod of respect and turned, his heart pounding and his throat tight as he witnessed the fulfillment of a prophecy given hundreds of years before his birth. The warlock's eyes roved over his closest friends and family. Mithian was especially joyful, causing Merlin to smile widely as he looked at her. King Rodor gave an approving nod as Merlin's eyes passed over him, and the warlock returned the gesture. Gaius was supporting Hunith as she was supporting him, the both of them overwhelmed by the events of the day. Merlin smiled at them all as Arthur and Guinevere moved to stand on the step just above the warlock.

"Well done, Merlin," Gwen praised, clasping his shoulder in support. Arthur smiled at his wife beside him, nodding his agreement as he turned back to take in the joyful crowd.

"Well done, indeed."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Alas, I would have loved to have seen Lord Merlin of Ealdor, Emrys of the Druids, Court Warlock of Camelot, take his place at Arthur's side on the show. Wouldn't it be loverly?**


	16. Reunited

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This chapter has lots of lovely little bits in it. I hope you'll enjoy it! Merlin is growing up, finally!**

* * *

**Reunited**

Merlin found himself much more at ease as he attended his third feast as a guest rather than a servant. No longer did he find himself fighting the urge to ask Arthur or Gwen if they needed more wine or if they wanted more food. And though he still felt awkward being served by his friends on the serving staff, none of them seemed to hold a grudge.

Over the course of the evening, Gwaine and the other knights tried their hardest to convince Merlin to have another sampling of mead, but the warlock adamantly refused. Mithian laughed as Gwaine approached their table yet again, this time bringing Mordred to help convince the warlock. Merlin sighed, shaking his head at the knight's dogged determination.

"No, Gwaine, mead is not a good idea," Merlin insisted before the knight could say a word. The crestfallen expression on Gwaine's face even had Rodor chuckling.

"The last time you convinced him to drink it, he gave Gaius bright blue hair and managed to lock all three of us in his old room by vanishing the latch-pull," Mithian argued. "Not to mention all the bizarre things that were happening around him and the things he said!"

"My point exactly! We should be having some fun!" Gwaine retorted.

"It wasn't fun," Merlin replied. "Trust me. How would you like it if I drank myself into a stupor again, only instead of turning it blue, I just vanished your hair all together and couldn't fix it?"

Gwaine's eyes widened comically as he brushed a hand over his cherished locks.

"You wouldn't," the knight argued.

"Not intentionally," Merlin chuckled. "I didn't _mean_ to give Gaius blue hair, it just happened and I still couldn't tell you how I did it!"

"It just happened?!" Mordred asked. "How?"

"It has to do with one of the things I explained to these dollopheads when we were looking for you, Mordred," Merlin explained, grinning mischievously at the affronted knight. "My mother sent me to live here in Camelot with Gaius so I could learn to control my magic before it totally controlled me. When I got drunk, all of the control that I had learned disappeared, but none of the power that I had gained in the meantime did."

"His spoon was rattling, platters were crashing, candles were flickering and he was spouting off the silliest things. All this while I was trying to get him out of here and to Gaius before anyone realized! Getting him through the halls was another adventure entirely. He was shouting about having magic and while I'm contemplating gagging him with his neckerchief for the sake of keeping his secret, Gaius' door practically jumps open merely because we came to it with the intent to enter," Mithian laughed, her eyes glinting mischievously at Merlin's reddening face.

"I am so sorry Mithian. I won't put you through that again," Merlin chuckled ruefully.

"I've never been entirely drunk, to be honest," Mordred said curiously. "Do you think the same thing would happen to me?" Gwaine's eyes immediately lit up.

"Alright, Merlin, stick with your bitter wine. Leave the mead to the men," the knight teased, wrapping an arm around his fellow knight.

"You can keep the hangover that comes with it, as well," Merlin said cheerfully, laughing at the slightly concerned look on Mordred's face as Gwaine led the younger man back to their table.

"You turned Gaius' hair _blue_?!" Rodor asked with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"I honestly didn't mean to," Merlin admitted sheepishly, though Rodor merely laughed.

As the evening wore on, Merlin was glad to see how happy everyone was. Arthur and Gwen were cheerfully presiding over the feast, though the queen was starting to look rather tired. Hunith was pleasantly chatting with many different people, nobles and servants alike. Gaius was sitting beside a wide-eyed Daegal, who had very likely never seen so much food in one meal. Merlin chuckled at the thought of how similar he must have looked when he first found himself in Daegal's position.

Even though his magic was now in the open, Merlin was glad to see that most people didn't shy away from him or turn in fear at the sight of him. His friends amongst the servants still smiled as they greeted him and the knights had all seemed to respect him even more than they had before. Of course, there were still some grumbles amongst the _relics _on the council, but for the most part, everyone had been rather accepting. Merlin worried that he had been relatively insulated against the worst possible reactions, isolated as he was in the castle, surrounded by those who knew him the best. The true test of the people's acceptance of magic would be when he next went into town.

Just after the queen had excused herself for bed but before the feast could take its usual rowdy turn, the double doors at the end of the dining hall opened. Two of Camelot's guards entered, escorting a group of men dressed in the attire of Catha priests and a few women dressed in grey robes. Merlin recognised Alator himself at the head of the company, though the priest had yet to look his way. Everyone at the head table stood, along with the knights, all of them eyeing the newcomers warily.

"Just when I thought we had broken the habit of having every feast interrupted dramatically," Merlin chuckled facetiously. Arthur heard his comment and gave the warlock a brief scowl before addressing the leader of the priests.

"I am King Arthur; what might your name be?"

The eldest man in the group stepped forward.

"I am Alator of the Catha, a High Priest of The Old Religion."

"I welcome you to Camelot, Alator."

"I thank you for your welcome," the Catha priest replied.

"We are celebrating the appointment of our newest Court Warlock," Arthur explained, gesturing towards Merlin. "What is your business here?"

"It is because of this celebration that we are here. We long ago pledged our support to Emrys, and as he is now revealed, we have come to reaffirm our oath to him and pledge our allegiance to you as the Once and Future King."

As one, the blue-clad priests took a knee and bowed in respect to Arthur. The women stood in the back, their heads lowered.

"Please rise," Arthur entreated, coming around the table to stand before Alator. "It gives me great honor to accept your support and your allegiance. I hope that we can work together to bring about our dream of uniting Albion."

"There is yet another reason why I and my brothers have traveled this journey," Alator explained as he stood.

"What reason would that be?" Arthur asked.

"That would be me," a voice answered from the back. A tall, dark-haired man moved to the front of the group. Merlin looked at Mithian in surprise when she gasped and covered her mouth in shock.

"Mercy!" King Rodor exclaimed, tears forming rapidly in his eyes as he followed Arthur around the table to stand before the young man. The two looked at one another for a long moment before Rodor crushed the young man to his chest in a tight embrace. Mithian, too, came around the table, wrapping her arms around her father and the dark-haired man. Merlin followed slowly behind, a grin on his face as he saw Mithian's happiness.

"You know this man then?" Arthur asked the king of Nemeth with a chuckle, trading a look of amusement with Merlin as the warlock came to stand beside his king.

"Yes, you do as well, though I don't believe you've seen each other in twenty years at least. This is my son, Prince Gavin," Rodor explained.

"Prince Gavin?!" Arthur asked, smiling at the dark-haired prince in astonishment. His memory of the Prince of Nemeth was little more than a fuzzy recollection of wooden sword fights.

"One and the same," Gavin answered, bowing his head to Arthur in respect.

"Where have you been all these years?" Mithian asked her brother, stepping back to grasp onto Merlin's hand. Gavin looked at King Rodor, his eyes apologetic.

"I discovered something six years ago. Something that frightened me greatly," Gavin explained, turning back to his sister. "I have magic, Mithian."

The princess' eyes widened in surprise. Gavin smiled understandingly, nodding in confirmation.

"But then why did you leave? Why did you not tell us?" Mithian asked.

"Uther was still king," Gavin explained.

"My father had no dominion over Nemeth," Arthur said in confusion. "Why would you be frightened of my father?"

"Uther may not have had the power to order my execution, but he certainly had the power to end our two kingdoms' formerly unstable diplomacy. I could not put Nemeth at risk like that. Instead, I requested leave of my duties to go questing, ostensibly to prove myself worthy of the throne. Though in reality, I left to gain control over my growing gift. In my travels, I found Alator and the Catha. I have been studying with them ever since."

"I am happy to see you return, Gavin," Mithian said, smiling happily at her brother before gesturing to Merlin beside her. "You have not yet met my husband."

The warlock smiled at his wife then turned to Prince Gavin, giving the royal a respectful nod.

"I'm pleased to meet you, I'm Merlin," he said, smiling at his wife's brother as he took a step forward and offered his hand in greeting.

"_Merlin_?!" Gavin asked in shock, looking between Merlin and Mithian in surprise before looking questioningly at Alator. The Catha priest said nothing, but nodded in silent confirmation to his royal student.

"You are Emrys! It is an honor to meet you," Gavin said, falling to one knee in respect before Merlin, the other Catha Priests quickly following suit.

"Er..." Merlin said, utterly shocked, his hand dropping back to his side. Merlin's cheeks reddened as the _Crown Prince_ of Nemeth and a half-dozen others bowed to him. "Please, you really don't have to do that," he entreated, looking nervously around the room at the stunned expressions on everyone's faces. Rodor and Arthur exchanged a surprised look, not realizing until that moment exactly what Merlin meant to the magical community.

Gavin rose to his feet, looking amazedly between his sister and Merlin once again. The warlock stepped back to his wife's side, only to be surprised by the astonished look on Mithian's face as she looked at him.

"It's like I saw in the Cauldron," she whispered. "Not exactly, but it was close."

"Are you planning on staying long in Camelot?" Arthur asked, pulling Merlin and Mithian from their thoughts.

"I was actually traversing your kingdom on my way to Nemeth when we heard tell of today's events while passing though a village not far from here. I had no idea that my sister had married so fortuitously," Gavin answered, smiling at his younger sister. Mithian returned the grin, grabbing Merlin's hand again and giving it a tight squeeze.

"You can return with me, I planned on traveling home in a week," Rodor said. Gavin smiled at his father tentatively and nodded.

"You are not disappointed that you had such a son?" the prince asked nervously. Rodor's face softened.

"I have done you both a great disservice in my attempts to protect you," Rodor said, looking in turn to Mithian and Gavin. "I told Mithian just hours ago, that your grandmother, my mother, had magic. My son, you could not disappoint me, especially not after you took after my mother."

Gavin let out the breath he seemed to be holding, and Mithian smiled proudly at her father.

"Are you hungry?" Arthur asked, breaking the sudden, awkward silence. "Please, have a seat, we're meant to be celebrating tonight."

Instantly, the nobles that had been greedily watching the exchange for gossip fodder went back to their meals and the newcomers were quickly accommodated. Merlin sat beside Mithian once more, wondering just what else Fate would favor them with.

* * *

Early the next morning, Merlin sought out Alator amongst the guest rooms that had been afforded the Catha escorting Gavin. Mithian had suggested that perhaps the High Priest would be invaluable in Merlin's study of the pre-purge scrolls that Geoffrey had collected.

"Jonathan!" the warlock called out, seeing a servant coming out of a room down the corridor a ways.

"Ah, your lordship. What can I do for your lordship this morning, your lordship?"

Merlin smiled wryly. He and Jonathan had always been friendly; the sandy-haired servant had always reminded Merlin of Will.

"Please, don't remind me," the warlock groaned.

"Of course not, your lordship. What is it you are needing, your lordship?" Jonathan teased, a wicked gleam in his eye. Merlin sighed.

"Do you know where Alator of the Catha was quartered for the night?"

"You can't sniff him out or some other such magic trick?" Jonathan scoffed teasingly. Merlin rolled his eyes, but grinned at the thought that the servant wasn't uncomfortable mentioning the warlock's magic.

"I suppose I could. I just figured it would be faster to ask someone in the know," Merlin replied. Jonathan looked surprised for just a moment before he schooled his expression and grinned mischievously.

"Well now, I thought you always knew every little thing going on in the castle, but I suppose even the best of us can lose their sense of direction," Jonathan said with a grin before he pointed further down the hall. "He's in the room on the end."

"Thanks, Jonathan," Merlin said, then rolled his eyes as the servant gave an exaggerated bow.

"At your service, your lor-"

"Shut it, Jonathan," Merlin laughed, knocking playfully into the servant as he passed.

"See you around, Merlin. Good to know you haven't changed," Jonathan called, whistling as he went on his way. Merlin shook his head and made his way to the door that Jonathan had indicated and knocked softly.

A moment later, the door opened silently, and Merlin entered to find Alator kneeling by the window.

"Alator?" Merlin called quietly, unwilling to disturb the peaceful calm. The high priest slowly stood and turned towards the warlock and bowed his head respectfully.

"How can I help you this morning, Emrys?"

"I was hoping that I could ask a favor of you."

"Of course."

"Arthur believes that my appointment yesterday will provoke a reaction from the surrounding kingdoms."

"Aye," Alator agreed, nodding.

"He thinks that the time is at hand for us to begin the unification of Albion. That legalizing magic will cause others to reevaluate their treaties with Camelot, opening the door for a discussion of peace amongst all the kingdoms."

"He is truly a wise king, worthy of his destiny," Alator agreed. "How may I assist you?"

"Arthur wants me to redraft the laws concerning magic. The limitations and punishments enacted will surely be an issue of great concern to the neighboring kingdoms. I hope to enable our freedom without creating the power struggle and corruption that became such a problem in the past."

"And you want my assistance in this task?" Alator asked, his brow furrowed. Merlin nodded.

"I believe you would be a valuable addition to my efforts to fulfill my destiny."

Alator shook his head.

"I have not always been a good person, Emrys," Alator said regretfully. Merlin's brow furrowed in confusion. The high priest looked down at his hands, collecting his thoughts before he spoke again.

"You know how it was that I learned of your true identity. To my great shame, I treated Gaius horribly; I have no right to his forgiveness. I have tortured many others in the past to gain my own rewards and I have willingly allied myself with a Priestess who had slipped so far into darkness that she had utterly lost her way. I have been one who has sought the power and has given into the corruption that you are standing against. I cannot taint your efforts."

"Surely your desire to do better now has merit enough to prove your intentions?"

"This is not my destiny, Emrys; I have duties to the Catha that cannot be ignored. But neither do I wish to leave you alone in your task."

"Do you have a suggestion then?" Merlin asked, and Alator nodded with a smile, satisfied with his solution.

"I will have my servant, Finna, stay here in Camelot to help you draft these laws of which you speak. She is faithful to our cause and has been a valuable scribe to the Catha."

"Excellent. Thank you, Alator," Merlin answered gratefully. The Catha priest bowed his head low in respect.

"The honor is mine, Emrys."

* * *

On the third day after their arrival, Alator and his fellow priests quietly left the city, leaving Finna in Merlin's service. The woman had proved to be a valuable asset in decifering many of the ancient and crumbling scrolls. Her knowledge of obscure languages surpassed even Gaius'. Merlin was glad of her help, though he was even more glad that she had finally stopped trying to kneel in respect whenever the warlock entered the room she occupied.

With the translation and redrafting well underway, Merlin took the opportunity to get to know his new brother-in-law before the prince returned to Nemeth. He had joined Mithian, Gavin and Rodor that morning for an enjoyable breakfast. They had sat enraptured by the prince's stories from his time spent with the Catha.

Gavin, too, had finally gotten over the awe that he had initially shown at meeting the warlock, much to Merlin's relief. The Prince of Nemeth had a personality rather like Lancelot's; he was honor-bound and incredibly loyal, though he seemed to also share a few qualities with Gwaine, namely the love of a good story. Merlin had quickly taken a liking to Gavin, owing to the prince's easy rapport with Mithian.

"How did your magic first manifest?" Merlin asked Gavin after they pushed their empty plates away.

"Ah. It is a very interesting story; I had only just come of age, actually. I had been on a hunting trip with two other knights when a huge stag came out of the underbrush. It was rutting season and this buck was not pleased that we had trespassed on its territory!"

"I imagine not!" Mithian chuckled.

"Sounds like something that would happen to me," Merlin added ruefully.

"Your luck is as bad as mine then?" Gavin chuckled.

"Worse in some ways!" Merlin laughed.

"What happened with the deer?" Rodor asked, pulling Gavin back to the story.

"It charged us and managed to seriously injure one of my knights. The second was in danger of being trampled by the beast when I just screamed in frustration and knocked it clean off its feet with a wave of anger. It wasted no time in getting up and running away, but I just stood there, dumbfounded, until the uninjured knight came and literally shook me from my stupor."

"I imagine you were very confused," Merlin mused. Gavin nodded.

"I was terrified; Morgana had just made her first ploy for Camelot and hatred for magic was running high. But my knights were my friends; they would not betray me. In fact, they were sympathetic to my plight. They took it upon themselves to swear an oath of secrecy and helped me to organize my questing journey. The rest, as they say, is history."

"That's incredible," Mithian said, eyeing her brother with newfound respect.

"What was the first bit of magic that _you_ did, then?" Gavin asked Merlin in return, eager to swap stories.

"Well, I don't exactly remember the _first_ bit. My mother says that I would make things float over my cradle as a babe. The first actual _memory_ I have of doing magic with intent was willing an apple into my hands from a basket up high on a table."

"My word..." Gavin uttered, looking at Merlin in shock. "How did your mother keep you hidden?!"

"I honestly don't know, but from what she tells me, it wasn't easy."

"I think not!" Rodor laughed.

"Did anyone suspect you?" Gavin asked curiously. Merlin shrugged.

"I think that some of the older villagers suspected something was different about me but they didn't know for certain that I had magic. They knew my father had just left in the night before I was born; some said I was a strange boy and that they wondered if my father had put a spell on my mother."

"That's terrible!" Mithian exclaimed. Merlin nodded.

"Mother was always quick to deny it, though that was the most she ever said about him."

"That must have been difficult," Rodor murmured. Merlin merely shrugged again and smiled ruefully.

"I suppose. But I was a stubborn child, so I guess it didn't bother me as much as it might have and my mother was very patient with me. Especially when I was just a foundling and prone to unintentional outbursts of magic that seemed to happen at any errant thought or whim that I had."

"Your mother sounds like she is a strong woman," Rodor mused.

"She is. She had to be, in order to teach me what she did, and raise me to be who I am," Merlin agreed, smiling at the memories of his mother's frequent, though often gentle, scoldings that he had experienced as a child.

"Hunith is truly lovely," Mithian agreed, smiling fondly at her husband. Gavin looked between the two with a pleased look. He was glad that his sister hadn't been forced into a loveless political match. A comfortable silence fell over the group as they thought about the stories they'd heard already that morning.

"The villagers in the town we passed through a few days ago were saying that King Arthur announced that Morgana had been defeated. Is it true what they were saying? That it was you who defeated her?" Gavin asked, breaking the silence. Merlin's face instantly sobered as he slowly nodded.

"It is true," Merlin whispered.

"You don't seem very pleased though?" Gavin wondered.

"Morgana was once a good friend," Merlin explained. "I'm glad that the darkness that had overtaken her is no longer controlling her. I'm glad that the threat of attack from her is gone. But I regret that her death was ever necessary."

"We in the Catha felt much the same way. We are High Priests of the Old Religion; as such we felt a certain kinship with Morgana as a High Priestess. Alator especially seemed saddened by the news, but he praised that it would bring peace, as you said. It is a strange thing to feel pity for such a person; to mourn them when they have passed on, even though you also can't help but feel joyful that the trials they presented are gone," the prince explained. As Gavin voiced his conflicting emotions, King Rodor listened with glistening eyes.

"Such a feeling is the mark of a responsible leader. To truly feel victory at any death is to fall victim to the same evils that plagued Morgana. Pride, conceit, and envy of power. I believe you are truly ready to assume the throne, my son," Rodor said, smiling proudly at Gavin.

"I think not, not yet. There is much that I still hope to learn from you," Gavin replied.

"That may be so, and you also have an excellent example in King Arthur. He has succeeded when many said he would fail and Camelot would fall within a year. I believe that things will soon be changing and we are well-positioned to witness it."

"I think you're right," Mithian added. "It won't be long before we're going to see the other kingdoms' reaction to the events of the past week."

"I expect that there will be a number of kings that had originally allied with Uther that will not hesitate to let their opinions be known. I only hope that it isn't through declaring war," Merlin mused.

"Be that as it may, Nemeth will stand with Camelot," King Rodor affirmed. Merlin smiled and nodded gratefully.

"Your support is greatly appreciated."

A soft knock interrupted their conversation, followed by the door to Merlin and Mithian's chambers opening. Hunith entered the room, looking at the others with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting," she said, turning to leave.

"No, Hunith, you're not interrupting," Mithian entreated as Merlin went to give his mother a hug and pull her over to a seat.

"Your excellent conversation is always welcome," Rodor said with a smile, causing Hunith's cheeks to blush.

"Yes, Merlin was just telling us all about how you kept him in line," Gavin said, looking teasingly at Merlin. "How about you tell us the real stories?"

"I think that's my cue to leave," Merlin said, standing up and kissing Mithian on the cheek.

"Are you going to go speak with Mordred then?" Mithian asked. At Merlin's nod, Mithian chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Merlin asked.

"If they got to him the way they got to you at our betrothal feast, he's not likely to be up for much of anything," Mithian laughed.

"What's this?" Gavin asked, his face brightening at the prospect of another story. "What did who do to you?"

"Now I really know it's time for me to leave," Merlin joked, kissing Mithian's cheek one last time before heading for the door as Mithian began the tale.

Merlin chuckled to himself at the memory, wondering just what Gwaine and the other knights had convinced Mordred to do under the influence of too much mead. Smiling at the few servants he passed on his way to the knight's wing of the castle, Merlin pulled up short when he passed a snickering Elyan.

"Do I want to know why you're laughing?" the warlock asked, half amused, half suspicious.

"That depends," Elyan said, struggling to maintain his composure.

"On?" Merlin asked.

"You'll see," the knight said, then hurried off, trying to stifle his amusement once more.

Merlin raised an eyebrow at Elyan's retreating back, but continued on his way to Mordred's quarters. At the door, Merlin was just raising his hand to knock when the door was pulled open and Leon, Gwaine and Percival filed out. The knights seemed tired and slightly disheveled from having slept in their clothes, but all of them had grins spread across their faces.

"What's going on?" Merlin asked suspiciously, folding his arms as each of the knights noticed his presence and froze in place.

"Nothing," Gwaine said innocently. "Nothing at all."

Merlin watched them all leave, then opened the door to Mordred's room without knocking. Inside, Merlin was surprised to find the room was fairly clean and tidy, with no sign that the knights had been tampering with anything or setting up some sort of prank.

"Mordred?" Merlin called out upon seeing the bed empty and no sign of the young knight anywhere.

"Huh?" came a muffled voice.

"Where are you?" Merlin asked, turning in a circle.

"I'm... I'm in, Where am I?" the muffled voice continued, though Merlin was able to follow the sound to under Mordred's bed. Bending down to peer beneath it, Merlin saw that the knight was curled up with his pillow, using his crimson knight's cloak as a blanket. The warlock was surprised, however, to see that Mordred's normally dark hair was a shocking shade of red, bordering on orange. Even more surprising were the long, dangling goat's ears protruding from the garishly colored curls.

"What are you doing under there?" Merlin asked, doing his best to stifle his laughter.

"I don't know... But I'm sure it made sense at the time," Mordred said with a wince before cradling his head in his hands.

"Gwaine gave you mead last night, didn't he?" Merlin asked knowingly. Mordred's brow furrowed.

"Yes, but it was just one," he answered.

"Trust me, it was more than one," Merlin chuckled. "Have you seen yourself?"

"I'm under the bed aren't I?" Mordred asked, sliding out on his belly before wincing at the brightness of the room. Merlin pressed his lips firmly together to stave off the laughter that threatened to bubble up. In addition to the garish color that now imbued Mordred's curly hair, there were bits of straw sticking out like he had originally decided to take a nap in the stables. Which may have been the result of the rather interesting ears the knight now bore.

"What is it?" Mordred asked in alarm, seeing the expression on Merlin's face. The warlock looked around, finally spotting a silver plate on the table. Grabbing it and holding it up in front of his apprentice, Merlin chuckled at the wide-eyed alarm that suddenly struck the young knight.

"How do I fix it?" Mordred asked desperately, putting a hand to his ears before starting to pluck the straw from his curls.

"Funnily enough, I came here to find out when you wanted to hold your next lesson, but now seems as good a time as any," Merlin answered.

"For what?" Mordred asked.

"I'm going to teach you how to reverse whatever you did to yourself last night, no doubt from the encouragement of the other knights. This is a spell that will restore your true nature; now repeat after me: _béte mín andwlita, ábare þá sóþ ansíen."_

"_Béte mín andwlita, ábare þá sóþ ansíen."_

"Right, now say it again, but project your intent, your will into it, like you did with starting the fire. It shouldn't be too difficult, as I imagine you'd like to lose the floppy ears," Merlin said, only just restraining a snort from erupting. Mordred nodded, and looked into the silver plate determinedly.

"_Béte mín andwlita, ábare þá sóþ ansíen."_

"Well, your hair _is_ less orange, but the ears haven't budged," Merlin said. "Try it again, you have to really _want _to return to your true appearance."

"I do!" Mordred said, his voice bordering on panic.

"I believe you, trust me. Now calm down and try again."

Mordred closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself before he opened his eyes once more.

"_Béte mín andwlita, ábare þá sóþ ansíen!" _Mordred said firmly; Merlin could feel the wave of magic released as Mordred's eyes flared gold and the goat's ears shrank back into his normal ears. The knight's hair though, was still a lighter color than it was naturally, with an embarrassing pink tinge to it. Merlin smiled and took pity on his frustrated and hung-over apprentice.

"_Á__bareþ þá sóþes ansíene."_

Finally, Mordred's hair darkened to its natural color and the knight looked gratefully into the plate, his appearance fully restored save for the lingering signs of his copious mead consumption the previous evening.

"I'm never drinking mead again," Mordred moaned.

"Probably not a bad idea," Merlin agreed. "Best to stick to the bitter, weak wine. I'm sure you've no desire to repeat this little disaster."

"I'm sure the others would call it an adventure," Mordred chuckled.

"I'm sure they would. We can only hope that those ears and orange hair were all that you had to show for your little _adventure_. We'll have to ask the knights later if there's anything we need to reverse somewhere else in the castle. For now, go see Gaius. It tastes like a bog, but his headache remedy is quite effective. Then you can come to my chambers and we'll work out a schedule."

Mordred grimaced at the thought, but nodded his agreement. Merlin chuckled at his apprentice's predicament, remembering his own all too well. With everyone else likely still recovering from the feast the night before, Merlin wandered though empty halls back to his chambers, hoping that the most embarrassing stories had already been told.

Unfortunately, luck was not with Merlin that morning. He could hear the laughter through the door; forcing a smile onto his face, Merlin entered the room, his smile dropping completely when he saw that Arthur and Gwen had joined the group listening to Hunith's tales.

"Merlin!" Arthur called out, a wicked grin on his face. "With as reluctant as you are to disrobe in front of others, I would never have guessed you to have been the type to magic your way out of your clothes."

"Mother?!" Merlin exclaimed, his face giving away his sense of betrayal. Hunith merely smiled.

"Gwen wanted to hear some stories of motherhood."

"So you told them all about how I vanished my clothes?! Which I could hardly control, by the way! I was three! One errant thought about how itchy they were or how hot it was and they were gone!"

"I'm grateful that that is no longer the case," Arthur grimaced. Hunith laughed delightedly.

"Merlin, you have no idea how long I have wanted to commiserate with someone who would understand what I went through with you. I love you dearly but your third summer was more challenging than I can say."

"Considering the fact that there is magic within my bloodline as well, Merlin, does that mean our children will definitely have magic?" Mithian asked curiously. Merlin froze in place, blinking slowly as he pondered the question.

"I believe that Merlin's children are bound to have magic," a new voice answered, causing everyone to turn to see Mordred standing in the doorway.

"Is that another prophecy?" Guinevere asked curiously.

"No, but the Druids believe that parents with strong magic are more likely to pass the gift along."

"So we'll eventually have a dark-haired passel of nude children freezing time as they run around the palace?" Arthur asked, grinning at a red-faced Merlin.

"Oh that reminds me of the first time Merlin ever froze something in mid-air," Hunith chuckled. Merlin groaned, covering his face.

"Do tell," Mithian entreated, smiling at her husband.

"I'm quite curious to hear the tale myself," Rodor added.

"He was maybe seven or eight summers old," Hunith began. "Our village had a plentiful harvest that year, including eggs from our hens. Several of the older boys in the village took to using them for juggling practice."

"Is that why you chose _eggs _when you juggled for Annis?" Arthur interrupted gleefully.

"Yes," Merlin answered with a long-suffering sigh.

"Please continue," Arthur encouraged Hunith.

"Merlin decided that he wanted to be like the older boys, so he snuck some eggs of his own. I caught him just as he tossed them into the air, and startled him when I called his name. All the eggs froze right above him. Usually when he levitated something, it sort of bobbed up and down like it was in water, but these eggs just froze solid. The both of us just stared in amazement until I asked him what he thought he was doing-"

"I lost my concentration and all five eggs fell square on my head," Merlin said quickly. Arthur immediately began laughing, having no trouble imagining Merlin with egg all over his head.

"Yes, yes it's hilarious," Merlin said dryly, though he was fighting his own smile.

"I think we've put Merlin through enough," Mithian said, smothering her own laughter.

"Thank you," Merlin said gratefully, though Gwen smiled at the warlock mischievously.

"We'll just have to ask Hunith for more stories when you're not around."

* * *

King Rodor, Prince Gavin and their escort prepared to take their leave of Camelot a few days later. The courtyard was bustling as stable hands prepared the horses and the party from Nemeth waited for their mounts. Merlin stood back a ways while Mithian said her goodbyes and gave her father and brother a farewell hug.

"I have a feeling we shall be seeing you again soon," Rodor said, even as three messengers rode hurriedly into the courtyard. Merlin stepped to Mithian's side as the servants brought the horses forward and Rodor climbed into his saddle.

"Keep your eyes open," Gavin entreated his new brother-in-law. "Morgana may be gone, but she was not Camelot's only enemy."

"I will. Unfortunately, that is a truth I know all too well," Merlin said ruefully.

"I'm sure you do," Gavin chuckled.

"I hope your journey is a swift one," Merlin added, nodding at the Prince and King of Nemeth.

"Safe travels," Mithian entreated, giving one last wave as Merlin wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his side.

"Until next time," Gavin said, mounting his horse and pulling up beside his father. King Rodor gave one last smile and a nod before they rode out of the courtyard and towards Nemeth.

Merlin gave Mithian a squeeze and began to direct her towards their favorite walking path when a breathless page skid to a stop in front of them.

"Merlin," the young boy gasped. "The k- the ki- the king..."

"Just hang on, catch your breath, then tell me," Merlin instructed, alarmed at the thought that something was wrong.

"The king wants to see you right away."

"Did he say why?" Merlin asked, but the boy could only shrug. Merlin nodded, and smiled. "Thanks for passing the message, I'll head right to the king."

Merlin looked ruefully at Mithian, but the princess nodded understandingly.

"Go to Arthur, Merlin. He has need of you," Mithian said, a smile upon her lips.

"I'll see you later," Merlin promised, stealing a quick kiss before he left his wife smirking at his back. A moment later, Merlin burst into the king and queen's chambers to see Gwen sitting at the table while Arthur slowly paced as he read over an armful of parchments. The king did not acknowledge his entrance, though the warlock could see the familiar exasperation on Arthur's face at his advisor's abrupt entrance. Merlin watched quietly as Arthur paced back and forth as he flipped through the parchments, each bearing a different royal crest.

"What's this?" Merlin asked, moving closer and snatching one of the letters as Arthur passed by.

"_These_, Merlin, are the first responses to our legalization of magic and _you_ and your new position. I've called for a council meeting in an hour to discuss them."

"Ah," Merlin said, smirking as he skimmed over the first paragraph of the letter he had claimed. "Annis says she always suspected that I was less a fool than you claimed."

"How she could have, I'll never know. You make an excellent fool."

"Very funny, Arthur. You do realize that those donkey ears the goblin gave you would seem pleasant compared to what _I_ could do to you now if you irritated me, right?" Merlin asked nonchalantly as he scanned the entirety of Queen Annis' correspondence. Gwen snorted indelicately into her hand at the memory, but Arthur gave no response. At the lack of retort from the king, the warlock looked up inquisitively.

"You _are_ joking, right?" Arthur asked, his tone betraying the slight anxiety that he tried valiantly to hide.

_"_Whatever gave you that impression?" Merlin asked as straight-faced as he could manage. Arthur's eyes widened in shock.

"Do you mean to tell me that you would... would turn me into a _toad_ or something?" Arthur asked indignantly.

"A toad?! Please, Arthur, that's completely trite and overdone. That's the best you can come up with?" Merlin asked.

"I've never had to consider the possibilities, now have I? How often have _you_ thought about it?!" Arthur asked with some alarm.

"Oh, Arthur, you would make a very handsome toad," Guinevere laughed. Merlin struggled to maintain his composure, but at the look on the king's face, the warlock nearly fell down he began laughing so hard. The queen struggled not to laugh, but lost her fight and giggled into her hand until she was gasping for breath.

"Yes, my understandable discomfort at the thought of being a toad is very funny," Arthur groused.

"Oh, your face!" Merlin chortled breathlessly, though Arthur's resulting stern expression would have had anyone else hastening to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, it's not kind to laugh," Gwen said, calming herself.

"Didn't stop you from laughing at _me_ the other day," Merlin argued.

"Have you ever turned me into something you shouldn't have?" Arthur asked suspiciously, a light dawning in his eyes. "Perhaps a _simpleton_?!"

Merlin instantly shut up.

"Maybe just the once," he admitted.

"I always wondered how you managed to dress me in those horrid clothes. _Now_ I know!" Arthur griped. Merlin had the grace to look sheepish.

"It was the only way to get you out of Camelot at the time. Besides, it was Gaius' idea."

"Gaius'?!" Arthur exclaimed. Merlin shrugged.

"I'd tell you more, but we've got a meeting to get ready for."

"One day, Merlin, you will tell me _everything_."

"I look forward to it," Merlin answered.

* * *

Gwen smiled as Arthur and Merlin left the royal chambers, still bantering back and forth. She was glad to see that their unusual friendship had survived all the recent upheavals intact. It was hard to imagine Camelot without Merlin, and Guinevere was glad to see that the warlock would always be there.

Standing slowly and stretching her stiff back, Guinevere smiled down at her steadily firming abdomen. Her gowns had not yet grown too tight, but the queen found herself lacing them more loosely than she had a few weeks before. Hunith had assured her that she would stop feeling so very ill soon, and Gwen could not wait for that day to come.

"I simply cannot remain inside on such a lovely day," Gwen murmured to herself, immediately setting out to enjoy a walk outside. Halfway down the stairs, Gwen came across Hunith on her way outside as well.

"Please join me, Hunith, you can tell me more about being a mother," the queen entreated.

"Do you mean more stories to embarrass Merlin with?" Hunith asked knowingly. "I'm afraid that if I tell you any more he'll disown me."

Gwen and Hunith laughed at the thought, knowing that Merlin could do no such thing. Soon the two ladies were leaving the city and walking down a quiet lane in the nearby woods.

"How did you manage all on your own?" Gwen asked suddenly, peering at Merlin's mother sympathetically. The queen had been on her own before and knew just how hard it was for a woman on her own, let alone one with a fatherless child.

"It was not easy," Hunith answered. "But the others in Ealdor helped me a great deal. They became my family."

"You're very brave," Gwen said.

"We are each of us brave in our own way," Hunith replied. Guinevere smiled at the woman's innate modesty, knowing exactly where Merlin learned his own humble outlook. After a few more moments of silence, Gwen and Hunith came across Mithian on the path.

"Mithian, won't you join us?" Gwen entreated.

"That sounds lovely," Mithian agreed. "Are Merlin and Arthur off to some noble task then?"

"If you call talking to the council a noble task, then yes," Gwen laughed.

"Only when it's done cheerfully," Mithian joked.

"Merlin should have no trouble there," Guinevere said, giggling. "Arthur though... Tell me, Hunith, has Merlin always been so very cheerful?"

"He was as a boy. He delighted in his gifts, even while keeping them secret. Though as a young man he went through a sullen phase as so many young men do. His friend Will was a great help to keeping him from becoming too gloomy, but after his sixteenth summer, when his magic seemed to be getting stronger with every day, Merlin began to question why he had such gifts. He asked me more than once if he was a monster."

"No!" Gwen exclaimed, though Mithian nodded understandingly.

"It pained me when he would ask such things. I tried to hide it and reassure him, but he could see the hurt in my eyes, I'm sure. After a while he stopped asking and became his cheerful self once more. I think he was just pretending for my sake."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Mithian agreed. "He can be very self-deprecating under all his cheerfulness, not to mention very self-sacrificing."

"I've noticed that as well," Gwen added, nodding at Mithian. "Before you were betrothed to Merlin, I had asked him if he had considered taking a wife or at least having a romance, but he just said that he didn't have time for one. As though serving Arthur and I was more important than he was."

"That's why I'm so very grateful for you, Mithian," Hunith said, smiling at her son's wife. "I can tell his joy is genuine, now. You've brought out a side of my son that I had begun to lose hope of ever seeing."

"I have _very _much enjoyed seeing Merlin in love," Gwen said, grinning at the princess.

"He's not hard to love," Mithian replied, smiling as she looked down at her feet.

"No, he's not," Hunith agreed.

"Let's get back, I'll bet the council meeting will be over any minute," Gwen suggested, and the three of them turned back towards the city, eager to hear what was in store for Camelot.

* * *

Over the course of the meeting, additional messengers arrived bearing more letters from the neighboring kingdoms. Some were favorable, offering their support in the restoration of magic, while others held thinly veiled threats if the ban was not reinstated. There were others yet that stated their position so vaguely that they may as well have declared neutrality on the subject.

"This is precisely what I said would happen," Lord Vidor scoffed imperiously. Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes. "This peasant boy has brought us nothing but grief."

Arthur stiffened at the nobleman's words and Merlin bit his tongue in irritation to keep himself from giving Lord Vidor worse than goblin-granted donkey ears.

"I urge you to watch yourself, Lord Vidor. You are treading in perilous waters," Arthur said sternly.

The nobleman said nothing more, though his face was red with suppressed anger. Arthur looked around the council room, gauging the reactions of the other councilors. None seemed as angry as Lord Vidor; for the most part, the council seemed quite cooperative for once.

"I believe that Lord Godwyn of Gawant has an excellent suggestion," Geoffrey entreated the room at large as he held up a parchment bearing the crest of Gawant.

"Please, share this suggestion," Arthur entreated the portly historian.

"Lord Godwyn suggests a meeting to discuss a new treaty. He seems open to further diplomacy between our two kingdoms, and there are others who feel the same. This could be the beginning of the unification you spoke of," Geoffrey intoned seriously.

"I believe that it is," Merlin agreed. "We have a unique opportunity before us, one that could be the beginning of a golden era."

"This is your destiny, Sire," Gaius said supportively. Arthur nodded, thinking over the implications of this one decree made less than a week before.

"I agree and I admit that I have hoped for this very thing. We cannot allow this opportunity to forge a lasting peace pass us by. With the continued Saxon aggressions we cannot afford any infighting among the kingdoms of Albion. Geoffrey, I want you to draw up a letter of invitation to be sent to all the monarchs who have sent their responses, whether they are neutral, for, or against our newest legislation."

"Of course, Sire," Geoffrey agreed.

"I can help you with the copying," Merlin offered. "I know a spell that will make flawless reproductions."

"Yes, I believe you do," Geoffrey said, eyeing Merlin shrewdly. "Read any good _genealogy_ books lately?"

"Not since that page turner I read in your library," Merlin answered as he smiled innocently.

"In these letters," Arthur said, ignoring the exchange between librarian and warlock. "We will invite the various heads of state to Camelot in one month's time so that we might discuss a new peace accord. One that will be beneficial to all," Arthur instructed. "Go to your homes, prepare for the negotiations to take place a month from tomorrow. Council dismissed."

* * *

With a new deadline of one month before them, Merlin, Mithian, Finna and Mordred set upon the scrolls with renewed vigor. Arthur and Gwen joined them from time to time, though the musty scent of the aged parchment left Gwen feeling queasy. Finna had amazed the king more than once with her quiet devotion to her task and faith in this destiny foretold before any of them had ever drawn breath. She had become yet another example for Arthur's solidifying beliefs of magic.

Having known Merlin for years, and Mordred for a few months, it was easy for the king to accept them as good people, despite the fact that they had been revealed as magic users. Arthur had accepted magic as a neutral force, neither good or bad, but there was still a sense of apprehension that he was struggling to overcome. Seeing Merlin using magic every day had helped ease his anxiety over the issue, but Finna had been the first person that Arthur had come to know personally that had been introduced as a sorceress. The matronly woman had a gentleness about her that soothed Arthur's mind and proved with a surety that magic was not inherently evil, erasing every last lingering doubt that the king hadn't fully realised was there.

"What do you think?"

"Hmm?" Arthur asked, looking up at whom he had come to privately refer to as his magical council and shaking away the last of his thoughts.

"What do you think about this draft?" Merlin repeated, gesturing to the third such document that he and his small council had prepared for the king.

"I think..."

"Don't say it could use a bit more polish. It's shining," Merlin interrupted. Arthur laughed, thinking back on the exasperated look on the warlock's face when Arthur had rejected their first two drafts.

"I was going to say it is excellent. I believe we are ready to present our position to the other kingdoms when they arrive."

"Great," Merlin said, his face brightening. Mithian smiled, giving Merlin's arm a squeeze while Mordred and Finna looked triumphantly at one another.

"I just hope you can say that when you have ten kings and queens staring you in the face," Arthur deadpanned.

The king tried to hold in his laughter at the warlock's sudden crestfallen look, but he was not successful in the least.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, Finna didn't have to run herself through! He he he. Thanks for reading!**


	17. Summit Stumbling Block

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thank you so much to all who have reviewed! A little whump in this chapter, but nothing too crazy;) **

* * *

**Summit Stumbling Block**

King Arthur and Merlin stood on the battlements of the castle a month later, watching as the various different monarchs made their way to the city. It had been a busy month, filled with meetings and preparations of the citadel as well as the surrounding town. Everyone had been working from dawn till dusk for the past week, and the castle and city nearly glistened.

Arthur felt a certain sense of nostalgia as he watched the different processions approaching the city in the distance. It seemed like just yesterday that he had stood in the very same place with his father, watching a similar scene. Yet it also seemed like a lifetime ago. Now his father was gone and it was Arthur's turn to broker peace.

Merlin stood quietly beside Arthur, glad that the long-awaited day had finally arrived. Between the preparations for the peace talks and his lessons with Mordred, Merlin felt as though he had hardly sat down. Though he had given a grateful Mordred a break from his lessons in the last week so that they could both attend to their other duties. Merlin had been surprised by how much he enjoyed teaching; he had expected to be much more nervous about it, but Mordred had proved to be an excellent student and a quick learner. While his apprentice wasn't mastering spells at quite the same speed Merlin was capable of, Mordred was not far behind.

"It is a shame that Finna did not stay to see this," Arthur mused.

"She did not want to be away from the Catha any longer. She has been with them since she was a young girl."

"I understand. I could never leave Camelot, and not just because I am king. This is my home."

"Mine as well," Merlin murmured, a smile growing as more travelers became visible.

"There's Nemeth's colors," Arthur said, nudging Merlin in the arm with his elbow.

"Mithian will be pleased," the warlock replied, his grin growing wider. "She was just saying how nice it would be to see her father again so soon."

"And there's Caerleon's banner as well as Gawant's. If I'm not mistaken that farthest group is King Olaf's."

"Let's hope he left the Lady Vivian at home this time," Merlin laughed.

"Do not even _mention _that incident," Arthur groaned.

"What? That's how I knew that Gwen was your true love," Merlin teased. "She kissed you and the enchantment broke, thus she's your true love."

"How were you so sure she was the one?! I didn't even know that until she was gone," Arthur said, furrowing his brow in thought.

"Please, it was obvious that you fancied Gwen. It was obvious then and it's obvious now. The only one who couldn't see it was your father," Merlin argued. Arthur fell quiet at the reminder and Merlin allowed him a moment of undisturbed silence.

"Am I actually going to be able to accomplish this?" Arthur asked, following the progress of the processions anxiously as they drew ever closer.

"Things are moving forward, Arthur. This is really happening and you will see it through," Merlin said, smiling supportively at his king.

"Then let's hope that things go smoothly," Arthur said, chuckling humorlessly.

"Do they ever?" Merlin asked.

"Of course not, but there's always hope," the king answered with a grin of his own.

"There is that," Merlin agreed.

"Come on, we've got some visitors to greet," Arthur replied, hitting his First Advisor in the shoulder before turning away from the battlements and heading for the stairs. The king moved swiftly through the halls, Merlin right at his side. Guinevere and Mithian met them just inside the entryway, allowing the four of them to position themselves on the front steps along with the Knights of Camelot just as Queen Annis' contingent entered the courtyard.

"King Arthur, we meet again," Annis greeted in a strong, carrying voice.

"Queen Annis," Arthur replied, then gestured to Gwen. "May I introduce to you my wife, Queen Guinevere."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Guinevere greeted, nodding to the Queen of Caerleon.

"I have heard much about you, Guinevere, The Common Queen," Annis replied, eyeing Gwen shrewdly. "I think you're hardly common, though, are you?"

Gwen smiled meekly in response, and Annis turned to Merlin beside Arthur.

"And you, _Lord_ Merlin. Emrys of the Druids, Court Warlock of Camelot. Newly married to Princess Mithian of Nemeth. Definitely not such a fool after all."

"Queen Annis," Merlin acknowledged with a nod. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"Your Highness," Mithian greeted.

"Would you be so kind, dear Merlin, to juggle for me again sometime? You may not be a fool, but I've yet to be entertained quite so well as when you performed in Caerleon."

"Ahh..." Merlin said, blushing under Annis' questioning gaze.

"He would be delighted to," Arthur answered, and Merlin gave Annis a forced smile.

"Of course I would," the warlock said, ignoring the gleeful grin on Arthur's face. Annis looked between the two men for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Please show Queen Annis to her guest chambers," Arthur entreated a nearby servant as the Queen of Caerleon composed herself.

"I have never met a king quite like you, Arthur Pendragon. Nor have I ever met such a Court _Warlock_, as you say. I look forward to what the next week brings. This should be interesting."

* * *

They repeated the official greeting several more times that morning. King Rodor and Prince Gavin received a special welcome from Merlin and Mithian before they returned to the task of welcoming Kings Olaf, Lot, Odin and Alined as well as Lords Godwyn and Bayard. Last of all to arrive was Sarrum of Amata. As the numerous royal guests settled into their quarters, Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin and Mithian met briefly in the royal chambers before they began preparing for the opening feast.

"What is your impression of everyone's attitude?" Arthur asked.

"Obviously Rodor is on our side," Gwen said, nodding at Mithian. "I think Annis is as well."

"If they aren't already, I think Godwyn and Elena and maybe even Bayard and Olaf are as well," Mithian added. "Odin is a questionable one. He seemed rather cool and distant when Merlin and I greeted him. He didn't hide his lust for me very well the last time we interacted."

"That is an understatement if ever I've heard it," Gwen said, her features darkening at the memory of Odin's leering gaze upon her friend. "I'm afraid that were it not for the truce signed then, he would be difficult now."

Everyone nodded, but Arthur looked at Merlin shrewdly.

"You're not blathering. In fact you're being very quiet, Merlin. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were _thinking_," Arthur said, hoping to provoke the warlock into voicing what was on his mind.

"I agree with Gwen and Mithian..." Merlin began.

"But?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrow inquisitively.

"Lot is another questionable one, though I doubt he would fight peace. I believe he mostly wants to maintain his own sovereignty. I wonder about Alined, though. His letter was one of the most vague, but I know he has nothing against magic. One I didn't see amongst the Wessex party this time was the man Alined had with him years ago. If I remember correctly, his name was Trickler, and he was a sorcerer. Not a weak one, either. The effort he went through then to disrupt the peace talks... Something about him doesn't sit right."

"He is a slimy fellow, isn't he?" Arthur agreed. "Are you absolutely sure this Trickler is not with him now?"

"He hasn't been seen; Alined is accompanied most notably by the young Prince Anwyl, in addition to a small company of knights and servants," Guinevere answered.

"Prince Anwyl? I was not aware that Alined had a son. The rumors I've heard left little doubt as to Alined ever having children," Mithian mused.

"You're correct that Alined has no son; Anwyl is his nephew by his sister. She apparently died several years ago, and as Alined is childless, Anwyl has become the heir apparent. He's only just come of age," Arthur replied.

"I don't feel that Alined and his nephew get along very well. Alined implied that Anwyl would mostly be staying in their rooms or on the grounds for the duration of the talks. There seemed to be some tension between them," Merlin added, to Mithian's agreement. Arthur nodded.

"We'll keep an eye on Alined. I believe that we are all of a like mind in regards to the other rulers. But what of Sarrum of Amata? He is the least known of all the monarchs here."

Merlin's face instantly darkened. The warlock was particularly uneasy at the arrival of the ruler of Amata; it had been rumored that it had been he who captured Morgana and imprisoned her for two years.

"It has been said that he held Morgana, and in extremely inhospitable conditions. I don't think he's very favorable of magic," Merlin said thoughtfully.

"Did these rumors also say if he imprisoned Morgana for her crimes or simply because of her magic? Because if he was trying to keep her from harming others, I cannot fault a man for doing something that I might have done myself, had I managed to hold Morgana prisoner," Arthur argued.

"I know," Merlin agreed. "I just get an uneasy feeling around him."

"One of your funny feelings?" Arthur asked.

"Something like that," Merlin agreed.

"Then we should keep an eye on him as well," Mithian said and Guinevere quickly agreed.

"He did not seem very amicable when we greeted him."

"We'll proceed with caution where he's concerned, then," Arthur confirmed. "For now, we'd best get ready for the feast. It wouldn't do for the hosts to be late."

* * *

In the bustling corridors of the citadel, it was not difficult to go unnoticed. Nobles and servants from ten different kingdoms added even more chaos to the usually busy passageways. One wandering Lord of Camelot was practically invisible amongst the masses. Turning down a less-used corridor, Lord Vidor found himself in front of the guest chambers assigned to Sarrum. The warlord had an impressive reputation, one which the disgruntled noble hoped to use to his advantage. Vidor slowed and looked up and down the corridor before knocking on Sarrum's door. A tall stern-faced man answered the door and looked Lord Vidor up and down.

"Who shall I say is calling?" the servant asked.

"I am Lord Vidor of Camelot. I have business with your master."

Silently, the servant stepped back, gesturing for Vidor to enter. The noble waited in the main part of the chamber while the servant disappeared into the curtained-off sleeping area. A moment later the curtains were drawn back and a shorter, heavyset, bald man emerged.

"Who are you?" the ruler asked suspiciously.

"I am Lord Vidor of Camelot."

"You told my man you had business with me. What business do you mean? I've had no dealings with you in the past."

"I am here because there is a plague on this land and I am the only one who sees it," Vidor sneered.

"You mean the warlock?" Sarrum asked, his interest instantly piqued.

"Yes. He was a nuisance as a manservant, utterly uncultured and insubordinate. No sense of who his superiors really were."

"Then it turns out that the whelp has powerful magic, and now he has the king's ear. His favor. That bothers you?" Sarrum drawled knowingly.

"Of course it does. He's a filthy bastard with no connections and no sense of propriety, but now he's the king's First Advisor and he's managed himself a pretty princess for a wife. I say he's hoodwinked them all."

"Those with magic should never be trusted," Sarrum agreed. "What is it you want me to do about it?"

"Your reputation as a leader of assassins is unparalleled. I want you to get rid of the warlock before the end of the week."

"Such a dangerous request, if the man is as powerful as they say."

"Hogwash. I've seen him do nothing to prove that he's such a powerful sorcerer."

"It was said that he defeated Morgana," Sarrum argued. "Such a claim is not to be taken lightly."

"_You_ held the _witch _prisoner, did you not?" Vidor asked.

"I did," Sarrum said smugly. "I suppose this warlock shouldn't be too difficult. He's hardly more than a boy. In fact, I have something in mind that should do the job properly."

"That's more like it. You will be rewarded handsomely when he's dead," Vidor said imperiously.

"I had better be," Sarrum said, the threat clear to both men.

"I'll see you at the feast," Vidor said happily, as though he hadn't just ordered the death of the king's most trusted advisor. Sarrum smirked at the noble's swift change of mood.

"I wouldn't miss it."

* * *

"Pulling at that jacket won't make it any less form-fitting, Merlin."

"Sorry. It's just that I'm not used to these tailored clothes yet. I liked my old jacket, even if the tailor thought its shape resembled a burlap sack. It was comfortable. What's the matter with a bit of comfort?"

"I agree. I thought you looked rather fetching in your old clothes, but you're complaining to the wrong person about comfort in clothing," Mithian chuckled ruefully, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head towards her handmaiden who was lacing the princess tightly into her gown.

"We ladies do suffer to look pretty. Is that tight enough?" the girl asked cheerfully.

"Yes, we do, and that's just right. Thank you Tillie, that will be all."

"You're right of course. You women are utterly mad," Merlin chuckled, moving closer to his wife as the handmaiden curtsied and made her exit. Mithian raised her eyebrow at him as he reached to caress her cheek and pull her against him.

"You've got a mischievous glint in your eye," Mithian said, her smile playful and teasing. "What are you planning Merlin?"

"Do we _really _have to go to the feast?" Merlin asked. "We wouldn't be missing much, surely."

"I think it would look rather poorly if we didn't go," Mithian chuckled. Merlin scoffed and leaned down to bring his lips to Mithian's, kissing her softly for a few moments.

"It wouldn't hurt to be a little late," he rationalized as he pulled back to look pleadingly at her. "We've been so busy lately, I've hardly seen you."

"I just finished getting ready," Mithian countered, though she was leaning further into Merlin's embrace as she said it.

"So did I," Merlin chuckled, kissing his wife again.

"Some of us can't just vanish our clothes on a whim."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Merlin asked ruefully.

"I'm afraid not, my love. I'll forever imagine your little bottom running away from Hunith's scoldings," Mithian teased impishly.

"I'd rather you _didn't_ imagine that," Merlin groaned, then grinned mischievously. "Perhaps I can turn your mind to something else?"

"We'll be late," Mithian said, smiling as Merlin leaned in to kiss her tenderly.

"Only a little bit," Merlin admitted, resting his forehead against hers.

"Just a few minutes then," Mithian agreed, and Merlin smiled as he quite willingly allowed her to divest him of his rather restrictive jacket.

* * *

The gathered kings and nobles were moments away from being seated for the feast when Merlin and Mithian entered discreetly from a side door. Arthur turned as the door quietly closed to his right and raised his eyebrow at his Court Warlock's tardy entrance. Merlin smiled and confidently led Mithian to where the king and queen were standing.

"What part of _'it wouldn't do for the hosts to be late_,' did you not understand? Need I ask _where_ you have been?" Arthur asked, grimacing as Merlin patted down his unruly hair and shook his head with an innocent smile.

"Can you really consider Mithian and me as hosts though? I thought that honor was strictly yours and Gwen's," Merlin answered cheekily.

"If _I_ have to be here on time then so do _you_," Arthur complained. "_Destiny_ and all that rot, right?"

"Arthur, leave them alone," Gwen said, smiling at Mithian knowingly. "You remember what that first year was like."

"And the second," Merlin muttered, recalling the many times he'd had to wait for Gwen to robe herself so that he could tend to his manservant's duties.

"Hush, Merlin," Mithian chuckled, smiling at the way Merlin and Arthur were avoiding each other's eyes. A kitchen servant approached them, and bowed respectfully to the king and queen.

"My Lord, Cook would like me to tell you that the food is ready to be served."

"Excellent," Arthur replied. "We'll be seated immediately. Tell Audrey to move ahead."

As the servant scuttled away, Arthur moved to stand before the head table and called everyone's attention.

"Your Excellencies, the feast is about to be served, please take your seats as we celebrate the opening of this historic event. May we work together in the next week to establish lasting peace."

As the guests all moved to their seats, Merlin looked to where Mordred and the other knights were seated, chuckling to himself at the devilish grins on the more senior knights' faces. Gwaine, Elyan and Percival began miming floppy ears beside their heads, to which Mordred scowled. Then his eyes flashed as Mordred whispered under his breath and the three of them began bleating loudly like goats. Leon began laughing uproariously at his fellow knights' predicament as Mordred gave a satisfied smile.

"Looks like he's been paying attention in your lessons," Mithian chuckled.

"Yes, he has," Merlin said proudly, though he raised his eyebrow at his apprentice once Mordred looked his way. The younger man sheepishly restored what was left of the knights' dignity and Merlin nodded his approval when Mordred again looked his way questioningly.

"Are you teaching him magic or pranks?" Arthur asked, also witnessing the exchange between his knights.

"Magic, of course," Merlin laughed. "Pranks just come naturally."

"So it would seem," Arthur said, giving his friend a mock scowl.

"The simpleton incident was totally isolated," Merlin argued, and Arthur laughed at the warlock's quick defense.

"Merlin!" Gwaine, Percival and Elyan strolled over to the table as servants brought in platters of food and jugs of wine and mead.

"What is it now?" Merlin asked.

"You taught him to do that, didn't you?" Percival asked shrewdly.

"Among other things," Merlin said vaguely.

"Seems young Mordred is a fast learner with magic as well as the sword," Percival said appraisingly. Gwaine crossed his arms and gave Merlin a disgruntled look.

"Mordred says he's not allowed to drink mead tonight. Are you really going to be such a task-master?" Gwaine asked, grinning at the warlock.

"I said no such thing, I may have strongly suggested it, but there was no _order _implied. Go ahead, offer him some, perhaps this time he'll give _you _the goat's ears."

"Where's the fun in that?" Gwaine chuckled good-naturedly. "How about you? Wouldn't you like to join the men again tonight?"

"I know you're only offering to tease me. That's alright, though, Gwaine, I'll stick to the wine and let you keep your shiny locks just as they are."

"Such a spoilsport," Gwaine chuckled.

"Are you sure Merlin?" Elyan asked. "I think I rather like the thought of Gwaine having to go bald, even if it is only for a few hours."

"Go sit down and stop pestering my husband," Mithian said with an indulgent grin.

"Of course, My Lady," Gwaine said, and the three knights dropped into exaggerated bows before returning to their seats. Merlin laughed and smiled at Mithian before the both of them shook their heads in fond exasperation and tucked into their food.

After the first courses were finished, Merlin let his eyes rove over the room, observing how the visiting monarchs were getting along. Rodor and Annis seemed to be conversing amicably with Bayard and Olaf, who had thankfully left Vivian at home. Odin had a sour expression and he kept to himself, despite being seated between Lot and Alined. The latter of the two only just masking his disdain for what was going on around him. Prince Anwyl sat removed from his uncle between two knights of Wessex. Merlin smiled sympathetically at the seemingly bored young royal and scanned his eyes over the rest of Alined's table. Merlin hadn't seen Trickler anywhere in Alined's party, but the warlock was sure that whatever new servant accompanying the king of Wessex would have magic.

Princess Elena sat between Prince Gavin of Nemeth and her father. Though Lord Godwyn was still the ruler of Gawant, Elena had been taking on more and more of his duties as Godwyn grew older. Merlin smiled at the friendship that seemed to be flourishing between the Princess of Gawant and Mithian's brother.

"More wine?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, please," Merlin said, helpfully handing his goblet to the new servant who stood behind him. Mithian held her glass out as well, but the servant shook his head.

"So sorry, Princess Mithian, but I'm all out. I'll go get another jug," he promised, turning to head back towards the kitchens.

"Would you care for some of this?" Merlin asked, offering his goblet to Mithian.

"Oh no, that's fine, I can wait. I've not entirely finished this glass ," Mithian said with a smile.

"Alright," Merlin said, taking a deep drink from his glass before putting it down with a wince.

"Something wrong?" Mithian asked curiously, her brow furrowing slightly.

"The bitter wine seems an _especially _bitter vintage," Merlin explained, grimacing as he moved his tongue around the sudden, thick coating that seemed to cling to his mouth and throat. "Gwaine?! Did you give me something?" he called.

"No, I haven't, Knight's Honor," Gwaine said, looking at Merlin with concern.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, overhearing the warlock's question.

Merlin tried to cough a bit to clear his throat, but the more he moved his tongue around, the thicker the residue seemed to get. Merlin's mind started to feel sluggish and his hearing began to fade in and out. Blinking slowly, Merlin tried to shake his head to clear it, but found that he could hardly move and his vision began to take on a yellowish-green hue.

"Mi-Mith..." he tried, but he couldn't force the words out before he slumped over in his chair, face pale and his lips an alarming shade of blue.

"MERLIN?!" Mithian cried, standing so quickly that her chair toppled to the floor. The princess grabbed ahold of the coat that Merlin had been fiddling so much with earlier and straightened him in the seat. "Can you hear me?!" Mithian pleaded as Gaius and Daegal came rushing over. The gathered rulers looked on in stunned silence as Merlin began to cough, bringing up a foamy white liquid.

"Merlin?!" Arthur asked. "What's wrong with him?"

"I'm afraid he's been poisoned, Sire," Gaius said, his calm yet steely voice betraying his quiet fury that someone had poisoned his foster son. "We need to get him to my chambers, quickly. Daegal? Run ahead and get a tincture of rue and yarrow prepared."

"Rue and yarrow, in a tincture," Daegal repeated, taking off for the physician's chambers at a dead run.

"How has he been poisoned?!" Arthur demanded, his voice carrying across the now-silent room.

"It was the wine," Mithian said, her voice breaking as tears began to stream down her face. "A servant just came and refilled his glass. Merlin said that it tasted especially bitter."

Gaius immediately scooped up the glass, giving the remaining contents a whiff and frowning in consternation before looking at Merlin's pale face. Guinevere and Gavin moved to the princess' side, trying to pull her away, but Mithian still clung to her husband's jacket. Just then, Merlin began to gag as he opened his eyes and looked around weakly.

"Merlin!" Mithian cried, trying to make eye-contact with the warlock, but his eyes remained stubbornly unfocused and glazed.

"Hold still, Merlin," Gaius entreated as Merlin struggled to move, his body retching involuntarily.

"Percival!" Arthur called, and the knight did not hesitate to answer his king's summons.

"What do you need, Sire," Percival said respectfully, none of the joking demeanor he'd had earlier left in his countenance. Arthur looked to Gaius, and the physician nodded.

"Please carry Merlin to my chambers, and quickly," Gaius requested. Percival nodded and moved to take the thin warlock from his chair. Gavin had to forcefully pull his sister away from her husband as Percival bent down and hoisted Merlin in his grip, the warlock's arms dangling limply as Merlin struggled ineffectually against the poison. Percival led the physician out of the hall, Gwaine and Mordred following behind. Arthur watched them go, wanting to follow, but knowing that he couldn't.

Gwen moved to wrap her arms around Gavin and Mithian, offering comfort and support even as her heart ached for her best friend. King Rodor came to his children, putting a hand on Gavin's shoulder as Mithian sobbed into the prince's chest.

"Merlin will be fine," Gwen said, though her voice quavered with uncertainty.

"Mithian?" Gavin asked worriedly as his sister trembled and sobbed in his arms.

"We had best take her to the physician's chamber as well," Rodor advised, eyeing the curious stares they were attracting.

"Guinevere, go with them and keep me informed, please," Arthur requested, his eyes showing his worry. "Leon?"

"Yes, Sire?" the knight replied, ready to perform whatever task his king asked of him.

"Mithian said that a servant gave Merlin the wine. Find that servant and bring him to me."

Leon nodded respectfully and immediately left the hall. Arthur turned and scanned the room for his servant.

"George," he called out upon seeing the fastidious manservant. "I want all the wine thrown out, and a new barrel opened. I want you to personally oversee it."

"Of course," George replied, bowing low and scurrying away even as everyone pushed their goblets away nervously. Arthur turned back towards the gawking monarchs.

"We'll soon have fresh wine; please continue to enjoy the feast."

"How very tragic. What does this mean for the peace talks?" Alined asked, his voice oozing with false sympathy. Arthur looked to the unctuous king and composed himself, locking away every trace of emotion.

"We will continue as planned. We have not come this far to give up after one act of aggression. Now please, finish your meals and we will retire for the night."

Arthur sat down, forcing himself not to look at the empty seats on either side. Nor did he look up when Elyan came to sit supportively beside him. The king forced himself to remain in his seat as the room began to swell with conversation once more. He could hear forks, spoons and knives clinking as the others resumed their meals, but Arthur could not make himself take another bite. He reminded himself again and again that Merlin was stronger than a little poison; he had already proved as much many years before.

* * *

Gaius followed Percival as quickly as his elderly frame would allow, grateful once again for his new apprentice and his ability to arrive ahead of them to begin preparing a hasty antidote. The physician held the goblet in his hand, hoping that he would have enough time to discover the poison used if the rue and yarrow were not effective against the poison.

"Gaius?" Percival asked, pausing to let the physician catch up to him.

"What is it?" Gaius asked, looking over Merlin.

"His eyes," Percival answered, nodding to the warlock in his arms. Gaius looked at his former ward and was stunned to see Merlin's half-lidded eyes continuously swirling with muted gold.

"His magic must be helping him resist the poison. It's a good thing," Gaius assured Percival. Gwaine and Mordred caught up to them then, looking at Merlin's ever-paler face with alarm. Gaius gestured for Percival to keep moving. "Let's hurry."

As they entered the last corridor before the physician's chambers, Gwaine ran ahead and opened the door, allowing Percival to enter without delay. The knight moved swiftly to the patient's bed and laid the warlock down, alarmed at how shallow Merlin was breathing and how pale his face was. Gaius immediately searched for Merlin's pulse and frowned at its slow, irregular pace.

"He's breathing rather shallowly and his pulse is very slow. We need to get that antidote into him now," Gaius said, looking at Daegal questioningly.

"Yarrow and rue, ground and infused with a tincture of fresh water and alcohol," Daegal replied, handing a small vial to the physician just as the door burst open and Prince Gavin strode in, supporting a pale, trembling Mithian, Guinevere and King Rodor right behind.

"Please stay back and out of the way," Gaius demanded, gesturing for Daegal to evaluate the Princess before turning hurriedly to Merlin. Percival and Gwaine helped to prop Merlin up; at the movement, Merlin roused and began gagging again before pulling in a few ragged, labored breaths.

"Here, Merlin," Gaius instructed, putting the vial to the warlock's lips and tipping the contents into his mouth. Merlin swallowed reflexively, but began choking as he gagged on the antidote. "Lay him back down," Gaius said hurriedly, even as Merlin grabbed a hold of the physician's arm and looked at the physician in undisguised alarm as his body stiffened.

"Gai-" Merlin grunted, the words cutting off as his eyes rolled back and his body began to seize.

"Merlin!" Mithian cried out, and Gavin had to grab his sister around the waist to keep her from throwing herself towards her husband.

"What's wrong?!" Gwaine asked in alarm, his eyes wide as he took in his friend's condition.

"The poison is reacting to the antidote. I was expecting this. Come on Merlin," Gaius chided hopefully even as he struggled to keep Merlin from seizing right off the bed. Mordred stepped forward, adding his hands to Gaius' on the warlock's chest.

Suddenly, Merlin began vomiting a frothy liquid and Gaius rushed to turn him onto his side.

"That's it, get it out, Merlin," The physician encouraged.

"That's good then?" Mordred asked worriedly, grimacing at the sick splattered on the floor.

"I believe so," Gaius answered, though he hurried to roll Merlin back onto his back when the warlock began to seize once more.

"What is happening?! Mithian asked, her terror evident in her voice.

"He must have been given a significant dose of the poison," Gaius said, his voice taut with his own considerable fear and anger.

"Can I help him?" Mordred asked, his eyes shining with anxiety as he helped Gaius hold the warlock in place.

"You know the spell?" Gaius asked, and Mordred nodded.

"Merlin taught them to me a few weeks ago."

"Then it can't hurt to try. The poison doesn't seem to have been altered or strengthened through magic, but you may be able to make the antidote work faster," Gaius explained hurriedly. Mordred nodded, looking down at Merlin determinedly.

"_Á__býweþ sé dréores. __Þ__urhhæle!" _As the gold faded from Mordred's eyes, Merlin stopped seizing, but stiffened as his back arched off the bed.

"Try again!" Gaius encouraged when Mordred's face crumpled. The younger man nodded, and closed his eyes for a second before trying again.

"_Á__býweþ sé dréores. __Þ__urhhæle!"_

With a final shudder, Merlin's body stilled and he sank back onto the bed to lay unconscious. His breath was still rasping, but the deep blue color of his lips was fading as he drew in more even breaths, restoring a healthier, reddish hue.

"What now?" Percival asked. Gwaine paced around restlessly, pausing only to look hopefully at Merlin before growling under his breath and resuming his pacing. Suddenly Merlin drew in a deep, rattling breath, his unfocused eyes flying open and darting around the room just as Mithian escaped her brother's arms and rushed to the foot of the bed. Gaius rushed to turn Merlin on his side as the warlock began hacking with a wet cough. Mordred looked from Merlin to Mithian, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Merlin?!" Mithian called, scrambling around the bed she moved hastily towards Merlin's pale, weak form.

"Mithian?" the warlock asked, his voice little more than a raspy whisper as his dull eyes locked with Mithian's.

"I'm here Merlin," the princess reassured him as she sat beside him on the edge of the cot.

"What happened?" Merlin asked, rolling onto his back and looking around him in confusion. Gwaine and Percival stepped forwards.

"What did I tell you, mate?" Gwaine said, his sense of humor kicking in. "If you were drinking a man's drink, this would never have happened."

"You were poisoned, Merlin," Gaius explained sternly, his eyebrow nearly raising to his hairline.

"Again?! Lovely," Merlin responded sarcastically, allowing his eyes to fall closed as his mind drifted in groggy weariness.

"I think we know why," Mordred offered, causing everyone to look at the young knight.

"To stop the peace talks?" Rodor asked, his brow furrowing.

"Why Merlin, and not Arthur? There's more to it than that!" Gwaine objected. "Odin wasn't exactly pleased when Merlin here married the object of Odin's lustful affections. And we know he has resorted to assassins in the past."

"I believe we should consider the possibility," Rodor agreed grimly. "While I hope that Odin has put more faith in our most recent truce, I cannot deny that he sent me a very abusive letter on the subject of my choice of suitor for Mithian."

"Exactly," Gwaine said. "He's been glowering at Merlin all night."

"Perhaps that is just what the assassin hoped we would believe," Mordred interjected. "Odin may begrudge Merlin's marriage, but there are plenty that hate or envy his power and position in Arthur's court. Not only that, his revealing himself as Emrys has been the catalyst behind these talks. As good a king as Arthur is, we would not be where we are today if Merlin hadn't revealed his magic."

"If someone wanted to stop the peace talks, why not kill Arthur?" Gavin argued, repeating Gwaine's question.

"And risk Merlin's ire?" Mithian asked, laughing humorlessly. "Even before his magic was revealed it was common knowledge that Merlin would protect Arthur even to the detriment of his own life."

"Our king is well respected among his peers, with existing treaties with more than one monarch here. Killing Arthur would make him a martyr," Percival said.

"And killing Merlin wouldn't make him one?" Gwaine scoffed.

"Perhaps our cowardly fiend does not realize Merlin's true import. Perhaps they only realize that poisoning Merlin is the most sure way of undermining Arthur's position and resolve. Surely there are those who are opposed to our goal of uniting the kingdoms?" Rodor asked.

"Of course," Mithian answered, even as Gwen nodded.

"I don't think that's all. I think this was a personal attack, just as much as a political one, but not one from a jilted suitor," Mordred said, and Gavin's eyes widened in realization.

"What makes you think so?" Gwen asked, her brow furrowing at the thought of someone wanting to hurt Merlin. It was Gavin that answered, his voice tight with the thought.

"The entirety of every magic user's hope is predicated on Merlin's ability to help Arthur usher in the golden age. Without him, there is no hope for magic. If you wanted to oppose the return of magic, what better way would there be than murdering Emrys? "

"I think you're right," Merlin whispered, his eyes scanning the room once more. "Where's Arthur?"

"He's still at the feast. He couldn't leave with all the other monarchs there," Gwen answered. "We need to let him know that you're alright."

"And my mother, too. She wasn't at the feast. She didn't want to be there with so much royalty attending. Someone needs to tell her what happened before she hears the rumors tomorrow."

"I'll go tell Arthur," Gwaine volunteered, his restlessness apparent to them all.

"And I will go tell Hunith," Rodor said. At Gavin's questioning smirk, Rodor chuckled. "My son, this is something that no parent ever wants to hear. I think that as a father, I am well suited to informing Hunith in a way that will spare her too much grief."

"As you say, father," Gavin said, turning to Merlin and Mithian with a knowing grin. Merlin chuckled weakly, his eyes drifting shut in exhaustion as Gwaine and Rodor left to perform their chosen tasks.

"Merlin?" Mordred asked, causing the warlock to force his eyes open and look questioningly at his apprentice.

"Yes?" Merlin asked when Mordred seemed to hesitate.

"Why does Mithian share your magical signature?"

"What?!" Gaius asked, looking at his foster son and Mithian in astonishment. Merlin looked steadily at the physician as Gaius reached out with his own senses, confirming the signature shared between the pair, though Mithian's measure of it was dim compared to the brightness of Merlin's.

"It's a long story," Merlin chuckled weakly.

"Funnily enough we have some time," Gwen said with an encouraging smile. Gaius looked at the queen, torn between insisting that Merlin needed rest and satisfying his curiosity over this new mystery.

"He gifted me with his magic before we were married," Mithian explained, sparing Merlin the effort of telling the story. Gaius furrowed his brow.

"How on earth did you do that?!" the physician asked. Merlin shrugged his shoulders minutely.

"I don't know. It... just... happened..." the warlock explained, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each word.

"I think rest is needed," Gaius insisted, eyeing everyone sternly. Percival nodded and he, Gavin and Mordred slowly left the room. Daegal busied himself with tidying the worktable as Guinevere settled herself comfortably in a chair by the hearth to wait for Arthur.

Mithian smiled sadly at Merlin's pale, sleeping face, brushing the hair off his forehead before tucking herself into the narrow space on the cot beside her husband. Mithian laid her head on his chest in order to hear Merlin's now-steady heartbeat and closed her eyes, exhausted by the upheaval of the evening.

* * *

Arthur sat quietly through the rest of the feast. He was entirely grateful when Queen Annis stood and urged the others to retire. Only then did Arthur feel as though he could gracefully leave the hall and head for the physician's chambers. Gwaine had come into the hall nearly thirty minutes previously and had given one curt nod and a lopsided smile. The tension that had settled around Arthur's shoulders fell away like a heavy millstone left to tumble down a hillside.

He had traded a triumphant expression with Elyan, who had not left his side. Arthur had hoped that Leon would have reported back with the servant in question before Arthur made his exit, but he had not. It gave the king a heavy sense of dread as the implications set in; it had been no accident or mistake, but a deliberate attempt on Merlin's life, and the perpetrator had apparently disappeared into thin air. Arthur hadn't so much as looked at the man who had come to fill Merlin's goblet, a point which made the king wonder if he was as aware of his servants and staff as he ought to be.

Arthur paused in the hall outside Gaius' chambers, taking a deep breath and composing himself before he opened the door. Guinevere stood up as soon as he entered, coming to meet him with a comforting embrace.

"How is he?" Arthur asked, eyeing the patient's bed where Merlin slept with Mithian beside him.

"Gaius and Daegal got him an antidote, and Mordred used magic to make it more effective. It was close, but not as close as the first time he was poisoned," Gwen answered.

Arthur nodded soberly, looking around the room for the first time. Gaius was sitting quietly beside the fire with King Rodor and Hunith. Daegal was sitting at the table grinding some herbs into a powder.

"Will he be able to participate in the talks?" Arthur asked, looking towards Gaius questioningly.

"I believe he should be fine with some rest," the physician answered, coming to stand beside the king and queen.

"Good," Arthur answered, nodding in satisfaction.

"Except..." Guinevere trailed off and bit her lip as she looked at her husband pleadingly.

"What?" Arthur asked curiously.

"I don't think he should," the queen answered.

"He's my First Advisor and Court Warlock. He has been responsible for drafting the new laws concerning magic, why shouldn't he participate?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"Because someone tried to kill him tonight, and we need to find out who," Gwen reasoned.

"Not that I'm disagreeing, but how is Merlin not helping me with the peace talks going to accomplish that?"

"Because he'll be helping me," Guinevere answered.

"Helping you?" Arthur asked. "How?"

"You will do what you do best, and negotiate peace with the other kingdoms. I'll do what I do best and get to the bottom of things. I have got to find out who tried to assassinate our Court Warlock."

"Guinevere, no, it's too dangerous-"

"She's right," a raspy voice interrupted Arthur's protest. The king whirled around to see Merlin struggling to sit up with Mithian's help.

"What?!" Arthur protested as Hunith and Rodor came to join the discussion.

"She's right," Merlin repeated, his voice getting stronger. "Someone tried to kill me tonight, and that someone is still here. I think we have a good idea of a couple different suspects; we discussed them just earlier this afternoon. We need to get proof to bring before the other rulers, or we run the risk of allying ourselves with someone willing to destroy what we are working so hard to accomplish."

"And you think that _you_ are the best suited to such a task?" Arthur asked, looking at Merlin dubiously.

"Arthur, what do you think I've been doing for the last seven and a half years?" Merlin asked wryly. "Only I had to do it without telling you what I was doing, or did you _really_ think I'd spent all that time in the tavern?"

Arthur scowled at the grin on Merlin's face.

"Part of what made you so effective _was _that secrecy," Gaius argued. "Many times you were underestimated by the foes you fought against."

"Then tell everyone that I'm still recovering, or that I died! I can work in secret until we find proof," Merlin reasoned.

"I cannot pretend you are dead," Hunith said, eyeing Merlin sternly. Gwen and Mithian nodded.

"No, neither can I," the princess agreed.

"In any case, it's too risky, someone would notice you," Arthur argued.

"I once evaded arrest for several _days_, never once leaving the castle. I think I can go unnoticed."

"Did it ever occur to you that _I_ was the one leading the search efforts then and I wasn't exactly trying very hard?" Arthur retorted.

"I know you didn't try very hard, you thought I'd been under your bed the whole time," Merlin laughed.

"Be that as it may, Merlin," Mithian interrupted before Arthur or Merlin could say anything more. "The castle is hosting several other rulers and their knights and servants. It will be a lot harder to get around without being noticed; you're too recognizable these days."

"Then I'll disguise myself," Merlin reasoned. "I'll become Dragoon again."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he pointed his finger at Merlin taking a deep breath to argue further when Gwen interrupted.

"I don't think that particular disguise will work."

"Exactly!" Arthur agreed triumphantly.

"Why not?" Merlin asked.

"You were almost executed as Dragoon, for one, and for another, the soldiers and knights of Camelot have chased Dragoon through the halls too many times. In that disguise, you might cause the stir we're trying to avoid by hiding your identity in the first place," the queen answered.

"She's right," Gaius argued. "You could try using magic to disguise yourself in other ways, changing hair color and facial features, for example."

"We can't have a strange man wandering around the castle with the queen and myself," Mithian reasoned. At Merlin's raised eyebrow, Mithian laughed. "I didn't stay behind when you went to the Cauldron, and I'm not going to do it now."

Merlin smiled and nodded, grateful for Mithian's support.

"How about a strange _woman_ then?" Arthur asked, looking smugly at his Court Warlock. Merlin's smile immediately fell.

"Excuse me?" Merlin asked, eyeing Arthur suspiciously.

"You heard me. A woman. You wouldn't attract any undue attention as a noble _woman _being escorted by the queen and Princess Mithian."

"That's how I got Leon out of the city when Morgause and Morgana had the Cup of Life," Guinevere agreed excitedly.

"You want me to be a _woman_?" Merlin asked in disbelief.

"I've always said you're a big girl," Arthur retorted. Merlin scowled.

"You'll make a... _lovely _woman," Hunith said, trying her hardest to suppress the urge to giggle.

"Mother!" Merlin argued. "You're supposed to be on my side here!"

"We'll have to find a dress to fit him though," Gwen said, her brow wrinkling in concentration.

"When did we agree that I'd be a woman?!" Merlin asked.

"Have you got a better idea?" Arthur asked cheekily. Merlin scowled, knowing that the effort of protesting was futile.

"That settles it then. Tomorrow, you'll be..." Arthur trailed off, thinking.

"Princess Dolma, my sister," Rodor offered. "She's not been seen outside of Nemeth in many years. No one would question her identity or her presence with Mithian and Queen Guinevere."

"Excellent," Arthur said, turning to Merlin with a smug grin. "I can't wait."

* * *

**A/N: Hee hee hee:) Yep, I did it. I couldn't have left ****out**** one of the best parts of series 5! Next chapter, DOLMA!**


	18. Investigation

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and bits and pieces of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Hee hee hee. I love this chapter. If you enjoyed Dolma and have laughed whilst reading any previous portion of this story, you may want to read this in private. ;D**

* * *

**Investigation**

Sitting in the dark, save for the dim light flickering from his hearth, Lord Vidor pouted silently at the failure of the assassination attempt. No doubt the king and Merlin would now be more on guard, making another attempt even more difficult. Sarrum was supposed to be the best when it came to such matters, and yet the warlock had stubbornly refused to die. Taking another sip of his wine, Vidor swore when a firm knock echoed through his chambers, startling the noble from his petulant reverie, causing him to spill the red wine down his silk shirt.

"Who is it?!" Vidor asked irritatedly, wiping ineffectually at the wine spilled down his front. The noble spun around in indignation when the door opened behind him and an unwelcome visitor stepped in.

"It is I, Sarrum."

"I did not give you permission to enter!" Vidor blustered angrily, slamming his goblet onto the table as he stood to confront the leader of the Amata.

"No, I gave myself permission. I came for my payment."

"The warlock isn't dead yet," Vidor protested angrily.

"He did prove rather heartier than I expected. That much foxglove ought to have dropped a _horse_ within just a few minutes, let alone a man as insubstantial as the warlock. But you can't honestly believe that he survived. He most assuredly died before he got to the physician's chambers."

"Don't be so sure. Merlin has the bad habit of continually surviving the most dangerous confrontations unscathed. In any case, I saw the drunkard knight give the king a nod, and then the king smiled at the queen's brother. Merlin _must _be alive still."

"A nod and a smile could mean anything," Sarrum contradicted. Lord Vidor scoffed and shook his head.

"You don't know King Arthur. He is a sentimental fool who wears his heart on his sleeve. If the impertinent whelp had died I'm sure Arthur would have held a vigil right then and there. The king's attachment to the warlock is second only to the attachment he has to the peasant queen. I'm not giving you a single coin until I see the mourners with candles in hand."

"_I_ organized the job. I am sure he is dead!"

"He isn't! I don't owe you anything until you've done the job _properly_."

"Then I want double, if you're so sure he still lives. Such a difficult mark will require additional incentive. I'll have my man keep an eye out for Merlin, if he managed to survive. _If _he did, he won't last another day. I will have my payment now."

"Out of the question!" Vidor protested. "I will not give you anything until I see irrefutable proof that the bastard is dead!"

"You've no idea who you're dealing with. Give me my payment, _now._"

"I know exactly who I'm dealing with. An upstart braggart who can't follow through. You're not even a proper king!"

Lord Vidor's eyes went wide after he finished his rant, looking down in utter shock, unable to comprehend the long knife suddenly sticking out of his belly.

"_No one_ talks to me that way," Sarrum growled, yanking the knife out with a twist and wiping it on Vidor's sleeve before he crumpled to the ground. "Especially not an _upstart_ _braggart_ who thinks he's better than me. I'll just take what you owe me now."

The ruler of Amata wasted no time searching through the nobleman's belongings, quickly finding a small chest full of gold coins. Vidor lay on the floor, groaning as he bled out.

"Enjoy your death," Sarrum said cruelly as he stepped over Vidor and made his exit, latching the door behind him.

"Interesting company you keep," a voice called out of the darkness. Sarrum spun towards it, his free hand already seeking his knife.

"Who's there," the leader of the Amata called out, his voice steely.

"An interested accomplice," King Alined said, stepping out of the shadowy alcove he stood in.

"What are _you _interested in?" Sarrum demanded, not trusting the slimy king one bit. He began walking down the corridor, though Alined simply followed.

"You tried to poison the warlock, tonight, did you not?"

"I'll tell you nothing," Sarrum answered.

"Well, I don't blame you. But _I'll _tell _you _something. This is not the first time I have tried to thwart Camelot's efforts for peace."

"You obviously didn't succeed the first time, which tells me you are a failure. Goodnight," Sarrum said, putting on a burst of speed to outpace Alined.

"Just like _you_ failed tonight?" Alined called smugly. Sarrum immediately froze, turning to face Alined with a furious expression.

"I do not _fail_."

"The warlock in the physician's chambers would beg to differ."

"What do you know?" Sarrum growled.

"Vidor may have been a fool, but he wasn't an imbecile. I saw Arthur's reaction, just as everyone else did. The King of Camelot is a sentimental man. Merlin was his manservant the last time I was here."

"Isn't that special," Sarrum said mockingly.

"It is, actually, if you'd use your head. My man at the time said that he was sure Merlin was behind our failure to spark hostilities between Olaf and Uther using Arthur and the Lady Vivian."

"I heard Arthur talking with Olaf tonight. The Lady Vivian is nearly mad with her affection for Camelot's _esteemed_ ruler," Sarrum sneered. "Arthur told Olaf that Vivian needed _true love's kiss. _It's unnatural. You used magic."

"Magic can be a very _useful_ tool," Alined said, chuckling softly. "A very great advantage, as Merlin's unlikely survival attests."

"Any man can be killed. Magic does not make him unkillable."

"Yes, that is true," Alined conceded. "But if you want to kill the warlock, you'll have to use magic."

"I suppose that's where _you_ come in?" Sarrum asked, looking from one end of the deserted corridor to the other before coming to a halt. "You like magic. Why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

"My father and his father before him, built my kingdom on the proceeds of war. There is no profitability in peace."

"And you think killing one warlock will start a war?" Sarrum asked doubtfully.

"No, I don't. That's why I've set my sights a bit higher. I want to kill Arthur. He's the one who has called the summit, he's the one who is touting the benefits of peace. If he dies, the talks will die with him."

"Or you risk making a martyr of him," Sarrum argued.

"That's where killing the warlock comes in. _They_ are the figureheads in all this. With no clear leader, we'll fall back into our usual squabbles."

"I will take care of the warlock," Sarrum offered. "Such unnaturalness needs to be eradicated. You take care of Arthur."

"Pleasure doing business with you," Alined said with a triumphant smile. Sarrum said nothing in reply but scowled at the king's back as he continued down the corridor.

* * *

It was agreed that Merlin and Mithian would stay in Gaius' chambers for the night. Daegal volunteered to take the patient's cot, allowing Merlin and Mithian the use of his old room. There was considerably less room in Merlin's old bed compared to the one they shared in their chambers, but somehow they both managed to stay on the narrow mattress. At least they did until Arthur and Gwen burst in at the first light of dawn, the queen's arms full of a bundle of silk dresses.

At the sound of the door hitting the wall, Merlin slid off the bed onto his backside, only just managing to keep himself from bouncing Arthur off a magical wall as he had when the king had charged in with the news that he was to be a father.

"Rise and shine!" Arthur called far more cheerfully than he ever had at such an hour.

"What are you so happy about?" Merlin asked irritatedly.

"It's time to get dressed!" the king said happily.

"I've got a dress here for Mithian and some things to try for you," Gwen said with a smile. Arthur gleefully jerked his thumb towards the pile of silk in his wife's arms.

"We've got a _lovely _little selection here for you to choose from."

"You're enjoying this too much," Merlin groused, standing slowly and stretching his stiff muscles.

"Did you manage to find something long enough?" Mithian asked, joining Gwen in the perusal of the gowns.

"I think so. These dresses once belonged to Sir Owain's mother. She was a rather large woman."

"But will the fashion be right?" Mithian wondered.

"Well, Princess Dolma's age would account for any lapse in fashionability," Gwen reasoned. "Can you do an old woman, Merlin?"

"How should I know? I've not exactly tried it before," Merlin answered. "Stop grinning so smugly, Arthur. It's not kingly."

"Of course it is," Arthur argued. "I'm the king. Therefore, grinning like this is kingly."

Merlin rolled his eyes and reluctantly joined the women in searching through the gowns.

"I'm definitely not wearing that one, that is ghastly," Merlin said, wrinkling his nose at a garish yellow dress embellished with feathers at the neckline.

"Here, how's this one?" Gwen said, pulling out a blue dress with elaborate embroidery and beads.

"Isn't it a little..." Merlin trailed off, wrinkling his nose.

"Girlish?" Arthur offered gleefully.

"I was thinking pretentious," Merlin said, folding his arms.

"Here's one that I think will work," Gwen said, pulling out a black dress with a hood attached.

"That's perfect," Mithian said. "My Aunt Dolma has been mourning my uncle for at least ten years."

"Alright, Merlin, work your magic," Arthur said, smiling triumphantly.

"In front of you and Gwen?!" Merlin asked.

"Why not?" Arthur asked.

"Because I... have to get undressed... and... I'm... going to be a woman," Merlin finished awkwardly. Arthur nodded, his composure failing completely. Gwen took pity on Merlin and ushered the laughing king out into the main room.

"Are you alright with _me _being in here?" Mithian asked teasingly.

"Of course," Merlin answered. "Besides, I'll need you to help me figure out how to put on this dress."

Merlin tossed the dress in question onto the bed and let out a resigned sigh.

"Here goes," he muttered, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he incanted, _"Beþeccan mé. Adeadaþ þisne gast mín; áwendednes mín andwlita geniwung crencestre."_

Mithian watched in stunned amazement as Merlin changed before her eyes. His hair grew longer and the color faded to grey. Merlin's vibrant eyes dulled with age and his spine bent ever so slightly under the weight of years. His smooth skin wrinkled, developing age spots even as Merlin's sharp cheekbones rounded and his brow became less defined. Mithian raised her eyebrow, though, at Merlin's missing bosom.

"Merlin? Your _face _looks very feminine, but the rest of you is, shall I say, rather lacking?"

"Well, I wasn't going to make myself _entirely_ female. I've aged my whole body, but I've only made my face look feminine. The first time I aged myself I got stuck at eighty years old until Gaius could make me a potion to reverse it. I didn't fancy the thought of being stuck as a woman."

Mithian bit her lip to keep herself from laughing aloud at the thought.

"Help me get the dress on?" Merlin asked pitifully. Mithian giggled at the look on Merlin's face and helped him out of his own clothes and into the dress. Merlin looked at the ceiling as Mithian laced it as snugly as she could.

"I said it before, but I'll say it again. You women are mad to wear this every day."

Mithian chuckled and pulled the laces just a bit tighter, causing Merlin to yelp in shock.

"What was that my love?" Mithian asked impishly.

"Nothing, I didn't say anything," Merlin denied. Mithian grinned and tied the laces, then stepped back to give Merlin a good look.

"Let's see what Arthur and Gwen think," she said, frowning slightly at the fit of the dress. Merlin sullenly followed Mithian into the main chamber, steeling himself for Arthur's reaction, especially.

"What do you think?" Mithian asked, prompting Arthur, Gwen and Gaius to look in their direction. Mithian stepped out of the way, revealing a recalcitrant Merlin, disguised as Princess Dolma of Nemeth. Just as Merlin expected, Arthur immediately began laughing anew, bending nearly double as he tried to gain control of himself.

"Ha ha ha," Merlin said, scowling at the king.

"Well, the voice is definitely going to need some altering," Gwen chuckled. "But otherwise, you look..."

"Terrible?" Merlin offered.

"I was thinking lovely," Gwen said, struggling to remain composed. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"You need to speak a bit higher, Merlin," Gaius instructed, biting his lip to contain his reaction.

"You mean like this?" Merlin asked, adopting a rather high falsetto.

"No, that's too high, it sounds like you're faking it," Gwen protested.

"What do you expect?! I am faking it!" Merlin replied. Arthur just laughed even harder.

"What about your bodice, then?" Gwen asked, looking at Mithian questioningly.

"Yes, that's what I thought as well," Mithian agreed.

"What about it?" Merlin asked, looking down at himself.

"It is rather loose," Gwen answered.

"Loose?! Mithian tied me into this thing as tight as she could! How could it possibly be any tighter?!"

"It is, well, _sagging_, in the front," Mithian said diplomatically.

"Sagging? What do you mean, sagging?!" Merlin asked in confusion.

"They mean your breasts aren't big enough," Arthur said, finally regaining the power of speech.

"Arthur!" Merlin said, scandalized, as he crossed his arms across his sagging bodice defensively.

"Well, it is true," Gaius agreed.

"Gaius!" Merlin exclaimed, his mouth dropping open in shock.

"What do you think, a bit of wool?" Gwen asked, looking at Mithian inquisitively.

"You don't think that would be too poofy?"

"_Poofy_?!" Merlin asked in a mild panic, though the ladies ignored him.

"You're probably right. How about a bit of grain in a couple of sacks, with a bit of wool over that?" Gwen replied.

"That will probably work nicely," Mithian agreed brightly.

"I've got just the thing," Gaius answered, turning to his grain barrel and pulling off the lid. "Here they are."

The physician retrieved two small grain sacks from the barrel, dumping most of the grain from each bag into the barrel before handing them to the queen.

"Excellent," Gwen said, hefting them in her hands. "What about the wool?"

"I think I have some over here," Gaius said, moving a still-chuckling Arthur away from a cabinet and rummaging through it. "Here we are."

Gwen and Mithian both took a bit of the wool and shoved it into the top of each sack and tied them off. Merlin's eyes widened in alarm when the two women turned around and grinned disarmingly at him.

"Just what do you intend to do with those?" Merlin asked nervously.

"Don't worry, we're just filling you out a bit," Gwen said comfortingly.

"Filling me out... Do you mean you're going to shove those sacks down my bodice and give me bosoms?!"

"Exactly!" Mithian said cheerfully. "Now hold still."

Arthur had given up on staying on his feet; the king had collapsed into a chair, nearly howling with laughter.

"I didn't fully change myself into a woman, Arthur. Not because I don't know how to, but because I didn't fancy the prospect. That doesn't mean I wouldn't turn _you_ into a woman."

Arthur immediately shut up.

"You wouldn't!" the king protested.

"It's looking more and more appealing," Merlin retorted dryly, narrowing his eyes at the king, trying to ignore the fact that both Gwen and Mithian were shoving things down his top and patting his new breasts, trying to make them look more natural in his dress. Merlin shook his head at the thought.

"This is the last time I am _ever_ doing this," Merlin said, looking at the ceiling to save himself from the indignity he was suffering.

"There, I think you're all set," Gwen said, stepping back to admire her and Mithian's handiwork.

"You're looking quite lovely," Gaius said, only just managing to retain his straight face.

"Let's get this over with," Merlin groused, stomping towards the door.

"You can't walk around the castle like that!" Guinevere protested.

"You just dressed me like this! What else did you expect me to do?!" Merlin asked in exasperation.

"She means you're walking like a man, you need to be lighter on your feet. Graceful, elegant," Mithian explained.

"Merlin? Graceful? Perhaps we'd better rethink this. Merlin couldn't manage graceful even if he was clubbed over the head with it," Arthur said mirthfully. Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur and straightened ever so slightly before wordlessly turning around and sashaying quite convincingly out of the room.

"Well, I'd say that worked like a charm," Gwen said in astonishment.

"I'd say it did," Mithian said. "Perhaps we'd better catch up to him, er... her."

"I think we should," Gwen agreed, and the two picked up their skirts and rushed to follow Princess Dolma out the door.

* * *

Merlin paused in the hallway, allowing Guinevere and Mithian to catch up to him. Mithian latched onto his arm as though she were guiding her elderly aunt around the palace, and Gwen fell into step on his other side, caressing her growing middle as though they had been discussing babes and birthing all morning.

"Who should we go question first?" Mithian asked, looking between Dolma and Gwen questioningly.

"I think we need to start in the kitchens; there's a trail there that Leon began following last night," Gwen answered. "But, there's a real benefit to having once been a servant."

"Oh?" Mithian asked curiously, smiling in greeting to a few courtier ladies who walked by going the other direction.

"Where Leon may find a dead end, Merlin, I mean, Dolma, and I will find old friends who will talk to us more readily. Of course, Dolma can't really help much in that respect, seeing as she's _in disguise_," Gwen said, echoing Merlin's words to her when they first met. Mithian smiled at the camaraderie between the queen and warlock.

"The kitchens it is then."

* * *

Arthur returned to his chambers to prepare for the meetings of the day, glad for once that George was so very dull. He would be just what the king needed to stop the incessant laughter that bubbled up every time he pictured the look on Merlin's face when Mithian and Guinevere had been shoving grain sack bosoms down the advisor's bodice.

Sure enough, by the time Arthur was prepared for the morning's talks, he was practically yawning. So it was that he found himself standing before the Round Table, somber-faced and composed as the other monarchs filed in and took a seat at the table.

"Good morning," he greeted, making eye contact with all those around the table. "This is indeed a momentous occasion. What we do here today will affect everyone in our kingdoms, today and in the future,"Arthur said, looking around the room once more before taking his seat. Annis took the opportunity to clear her throat, gaining Arthur's attention.

"I must ask you how Merlin is doing this morning?"

Arthur took a deep breath, composing himself, hoping that his expression conveyed concern rather than mirth. At the mention of his advisor, Arthur suddenly had an image of Merlin as Princess Dolma flash through his mind and he nearly snorted. Outwardly, it seemed he was composing himself to convey particularly bad news.

"Merlin is still recovering. It was a very potent poison and my physician has ordered him to stay in bed for a day or so."

"That is too bad," Annis replied. "I had dearly hoped to see him join us in our conversations. I'm sure that as fine a juggler as he is, he makes an excellent negotiator."

Arthur bit his lip, using every last bit of willpower to keep his expression neutral once more.

"I'll be sure to let him know. As sorry as he was to miss our negotiations, I believe he was also disappointed to miss performing for you again."

There was a very good chance that Merlin would make Arthur pay for that, but the king just couldn't resist.

"Now then, let's move on," Arthur said, bringing the meeting back to the topic at hand.

* * *

"Audrey the cook despises having trespassers in her domain," Merlin explained to Mithian in a low voice as they descended the steps to the kitchen. "She will yell and make a fuss about us, but don't worry. Audrey's mostly bark, though her ladle has a bit of bite to it."

"A bit?" Gwen asked incredulously. "I've still got a scar on my knuckle from where she cracked me with that ladle nearly ten years ago."

"Is she the one we'll be talking to, then?" Mithian asked.

"Oh, no. But to enter Audrey's kitchen can be a dangerous prospect, even for the queen," Merlin answered, the humor evident in his tone. Gwen smiled at the two of them before pushing the door open and strolling through.

"Who is coming into my kitchen!" Audrey's stern voice bellowed out. "I'm trying to cook for all these bloody kings and queens and I've got people popping into my kitchen right and left! I am not giving out samples here!"

"Audrey," Guinevere said soothingly, drawing the blustering cook's attention. "We just needed to look around, maybe talk to a few people about what happened last night?"

"I'm cookin' for all this extra royalty and you want to distract my help?!" Audrey complained, not caring in the least that it was the queen she was addressing. In her kitchen, she was second to none. "How am I supposed to keep all the food comin' if I'm constantly interrupted!"

"We won't be long," Merlin placated, masking his voice convincingly. "We just need to find out what happened to that poor man last night."

"Poor man? _Poor man_?! He was always comin' in here trying to steal my dumplings! He was a right shifty one he was! I'm ever so glad he's not a servant any more. Keep him out of my kitchen!" Audrey groused, turning back to the bread she had been beating down just moments before. Mithian and Gwen looked at Merlin's irritated expression with a smile.

"Come on, I know just who to talk to," Gwen said, leading them deeper into the kitchen until they found a brunette woman washing dishes in an enormous wooden tub.

"Meredith?" Gwen asked sweetly, causing the woman to look up in alarm as she realized that the queen was talking to her while she was up to her elbows in grimy water.

"Your Highness!" Meredith exclaimed, dropping the platter she was washing back into the tub and standing as she wiped her hands on her apron, her head bowed low.

"Please, we're friends, aren't we? I'm still Gwen, you know."

"You're still the queen, Gwen," Meredith said with a smile.

"Oh, tosh," Gwen said, smiling at the young woman. "I was wondering, actually, if you'd seen who was pouring the wine from the barrel and into the jugs last night. Or if you knew who took the wine out to Merlin."

"I don't know, I was on dishes duty last night, same as this morning. But Elfa was helping with the wine service. You could ask her, she probably got a good look at the man, as it was. You know how that girl is."

Merlin only just managed to contain his groan at having to question Elfa, but Mithian smiled, having heard plenty from Guinevere about the girl who had long borne a crush on the princess' husband.

"Excellent. Where's Elfa this morning, then?" Gwen asked.

"I think she's collecting the breakfast trays from the guest quarters," Meredith said with a shrug.

"Thank you," Merlin offered in his best womanly tone, smiling at Meredith before the three of them left the kitchen. On their way back up the deserted stairs, Merlin paused and fussed with the front of his dress.

"Whatever is the matter, Princess Dolma?" Gwen asked innocently. Merlin looked up at her and narrowed his eyes as he hefted his grain-enhanced bosom a little higher.

"These things are heavy," he complained, then held his head high as the two women struggled to contain their snickering.

"Try growing a whole other person in your belly," Gwen replied, patting her rounded stomach without any sympathy.

"Good job I'm not a woman, then," Merlin conceded, smoothing his grey locks back from his currently-feminine face. Mithian and Gwen looked to one another, valiantly withholding their laughter as they followed Merlin up the stairs and continued their trek towards the guests' wing of the palace.

* * *

Arthur listened intently as the debate continued onward. Gaius had offered his support, sitting in Merlin's usual chair beside the king, though Arthur was loathe to admit that he missed Merlin's council. Numerous topics had been brought to the table, including trade routes, border disputes, water rights, and most debated of all, magic.

"Can any of us _really _say that we've _never _used magic?" Annis asked as Bayard and Lot voiced their hesitance in accepting sorcery once more.

"I can say that I have not. In fact it was sorcery that led to my being falsely accused and imprisoned the last time I was here," Bayard said, scowling.

"For which our apologies were offered, then and now," Arthur said peaceably. Bayard nodded grudgingly.

"I _have _used sorcerers in the past," Lot answered. "Magic was legal during my predecessor's reign, and he embraced the High Priestess Morgause's partnership, but I think we all know that it also lead to his rather premature death."

"I have _not _used magic myself," Rodor interjected. "But my mother had the gift."

"As do I," Prince Gavin said. Several eyebrows raised around the table, most notably that of King Odin.

"I have no quarrel with magic," Rodor affirmed, nodding proudly at his son.

"Nor I," Odin said, elaborating no further.

"I have seen both its benefits and its pitfalls, but in the end, I believe it is the sorcerer who has to decide the path they will follow," Queen Annis began. "By shunning them we only invite discord and hatred. Morgana Pendragon was an excellent example of that."

Silence fell as all considered Annis' words. Arthur looked around, pleased to see the number of nods around the table.

"Magic has made my daughter nearly mad," Olaf interjected, contradicting his original stance upon arrival. Arthur frowned at the change Olaf had undergone since discovering the true source of Vivian's madness.

"I can guarantee you that she _will _recover," Arthur said.

"With _true love's kiss_? And just who is that? Am I supposed to put my daughter's virtue on open offer and hope that someday someone gets _lucky_?"

"Surely there was someone who Vivian was taken with before she came to Camelot?" Gaius asked helpfully. "Perhaps it will not be a random man, but someone she already knew and had some previous affection for."

Olaf's brow furrowed at the physician's advice, sitting back in his chair thoughtfully. Arthur hoped that Olaf came around; of all the other kingdoms represented, Olaf's was the closest to the encroaching Saxon threat.

"I believe that we should be accepting of those with magic," Princess Elena offered, looking to Prince Gavin with a smile. Mithian's brother grinned in return, giving a quick nod of thanks.

"I believe my position is well known," Arthur said as the conversation died down. "Merlin is, by far, one of the most humble, self-sacrificing men I've ever known. I'm glad to call him friend and embrace a world in which he and others like him can live without fear. But we have not heard from you, King Alined, or you, Sarrum. What is your stance on magic?"

"I've no opinion on the matter at the moment," Alined said vaguely. "Though I can't help but worry..."

"What is it that troubles you?" Arthur asked, hiding his frustration at Alined's refusal to state his opinion. Alined grinned as though pleased at the turn of the conversation.

"Emrys is said to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk this earth. If you have Merlin, this so called _Emrys of the Druids_, under your control, what choices do the rest of us have in opposing Camelot? You will just send your warlock after us if we do not comply."

Every head turned to Arthur; the King of Camelot was disappointed to see alarm and suspicion glimmering in Bayard and Lot's eyes.

"I swear that I will do no such thing," Arthur vowed.

"What good is that to us," Sarrum growled. Arthur's brow furrowed at the subtle insult.

"I suppose you will have to take my word of honor as a knight and have faith that I am as honorable as I profess to be. I am not about to force any of you to accept magic in your kingdoms. That is not what this peace summit is about. First and foremost, I hope to end the widespread persecution of peoples with magic. If that means that you will banish such people rather than execute them, they will be welcome in Camelot."

"And Nemeth," Rodor interjected. Arthur nodded his thanks and continued.

"Second, I wish to fortify our kingdoms against foreign invaders. The Saxons are an increasing and ever-present threat."

"And yet you still control the most powerful weapon of all. Your warlock could end us or enslave us with a blink of his eye," Sarrum growled. Arthur's face darkened.

"Merlin is not _my warlock_, as you say, to be ordered about or controlled like a bow or sword. He is a person, a good and kind one, with a will of his own."

"Yet he's sworn loyalty to _you_," Alined interjected with a grimace.

"He has," Arthur confirmed. "But not as a weapon. He is first and foremost a _friend_."

"Might I suggest we delay any further discussions about Merlin's role in this until he himself can be here?" King Rodor suggested.

"Aye!" Prince Gavin agreed.

"You would defend him, though wouldn't you? He's now your son-in-law. He could be just as much _your _weapon as Arthur's," Alined said contentiously. "Or he'll sire a warlock or two on your daughter for Nemeth to use."

"Merlin is _not _a weapon!" Prince Gavin protested in a steely voice. "Magic does not make us unnatural or inhuman. We are not _objects_. And my sister is _not _some breed mare for turning out warlocks as weapons."

Sarrum's face was inscrutable, though Arthur was sure that he'd seen a momentary flicker of disgust in the ruler's eyes at Gavin's passionate defense.

"Perhaps we should break for a meal?" Arthur suggested, eager to allow the heated tempers time to cool off.

"That sounds excellent," Annis agreed. Arthur smiled thankfully at the Queen of Caerleon.

"Then let's adjourn to the dining hall."

* * *

Guinevere, Mithian and _Dolma _traveled through the halls at a leisurely pace, owing to Dolma's aged body and the number of noble ladies who wanted to meet the newcomer in order to pass on the newest bit of gossip. By the time they finally made it to the guest chambers, the news of Princess Dolma's visit had spread across the castle.

"How do you manage to get up and down the stairs every day?!" Merlin asked after trodding upon his skirt for third time in less than fifteen minutes. "I can hardly manage these stairs in trousers on a good day, this dress is a menace!"

"Well, it's simple really," Gwen answered. "You just have to pick it up, see?"

"I'd like to pick it up and take it off. At least as Dragoon my robes didn't reach the floor and get caught under foot," Merlin muttered. Mithian giggled at her husband's irritation.

"We're almost there," the princess soothed. "This is the last staircase."

Finally, the three of them reached the top, just as a door opened down the hall and Hunith stepped out, dressed for a walk outside.

"Your Highness!" Hunith greeted in surprise.

"Good morning, Hunith," Gwen answered cheerfully. "And it's just Gwen, remember?"

"Of course, Gwen," Hunith smiled brightly, then let her eyes wander over the others.

"Princess Mithian," Hunith greeted.

"Hunith, I've told you before, it's just Mithian."

"Eventually, I'll get used to that. Please would you introd-" Hunith broke off as she took a good look at the unusually tall, fidgety woman standing behind Gwen and Mithian.

"Hello," Merlin greeted, adopting his Dolma voice and repeating the line he had given to all the nosy courtiers. "I'm Princess Dolma, Mithian's aunt. I've come to visit from Nemeth."

"_Merlin?!_" Hunith whispered incredulously.

"Oh, I think you must be mistaken," Merlin denied, giggling and brushing his long hair from his face. Hunith could not help herself any longer. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with undisguised humor.

"I'm just... going for a walk," Hunith managed, pursing her lips together in an attempt to stave off her laughter until she had begun descending the stairs.

"Perfect," Merlin said, brushing the front of his dress down and folding his arms across his grain-enhanced bosom as he looked at Mithian. "My mother will be telling this story to our children."

"At least you haven't vanished your dress," Mithian replied, utterly straight-faced. Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Come on then, Elfa has to be around here close by," Gwen said, walking briskly down the hall before she and Mithian lost their composure. Mithian and Merlin followed after, Mithian holding onto _Dolma's _arm supportively. In the third room they peeked into, they found Elfa collecting dirty breakfast dishes.

"Elfa!" Gwen greeted, opening the door fully, allowing Mithian and Dolma to come in behind her.

"Your Highness!" Elfa said, putting the dishes down and curtseying to the queen and then Mithian. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Perhaps. We wanted to talk to you," Mithian explained.

"Is there something the matter with my work?"

"No, of course not, Elfa," Gwen soothed. "But you see, we _do_ have a little matter to ask you about."

"What is it?" Elfa said, her eyes growing wide.

"We understand that you were in the kitchens last night, helping with the wine," Mithian said.

"Oh, I didn't do anything to Merlin!" Elfa said, her eyes widening with panic. "You know me, Your Highness, I would never hurt Merlin!"

"Do you know who did, then?" Merlin-Dolma asked.

"It was just me and Raulf on the wine last night and Raulf left early. He said he had a stomach ache."

"Raulf?!" Dolma asked curiously.

"Yes, he's not normally kitchen staff, you see, but we were all put to work what with all the visiting royalty and serving wine is the easiest bit to do if you're not used to kitchen work. And we haven't got Merlin anymore, he was always good for service. He's ever so sweet, you know. He never let us ladies carry anything too heavy."

"Yes, yes, he sounds delightful," Merlin-Dolma said dismissively. "What about Raulf, have you seen him today?"

"No I haven't," Elfa answered. "See he's a manservant and I'm just a kitchen maid. Manservants usually don't have much business in the kitchen. Just picking up or leaving trays. Except Merlin, when he was still a manservant. He did a bit of it all, didn't he? No one is quite like him," the maidservant sighed girlishly.

Merlin-Dolma huffed at Elfa's seemingly endless and embarrassing supply of admiration, though the maidservant didn't seem to notice Merlin's irritation. Mithian squeezed his arm in warning.

"You sound well acquainted with my husband," Mithian said. "You must be good friends."

"Oh yes... But Merlin is friends with everyone," Elfa explained hurriedly, her eyes widening comically.

"He _really _is, "Gwen said, glancing encouragingly at Mithian out of the corner of her eye. The princess immediately caught on.

"He's quite _handsome_, too," Mithian said smiling encouragingly at Elfa, whose face immediately brightened.

"Yes, all the handmaids have had a fancy for him at some point," Elfa agreed, her voice taking on a hint of playful conspiracy.

"Really?" Dolma interrupted, eager to stave off this new line of conversation. "I heard he was a gangly fellow, all arms and legs. Falling all over himself all the time."

"You've never met him?" Elfa asked incredulously, her sense of propriety completely gone. "He's ever so handsome. Meredith thinks I'm daft, but I'm rather particular to his ears. I could just pinch them."

Dolma's mouth dropped open in utter shock, her aged face burning with a blush to rival any maiden's as she resisted the urge to clap her hands over the ears in question.

"We've taken enough of your time, Elfa," Gwen said, ushering a grinning Mithian and an indignant Dolma out the door. Once they were in the corridor and moving away from the room, Dolma pulled Mithian and Gwen into an alcove.

"What was that?!"

"Just being friendly," Gwen said innocently. Merlin-Dolma scowled, but Mithian cut him off before he could say anything further.

"You seemed very interested in Raulf, who is he? Do you know him?"

"Yes, I do," Merlin answered, sobering completely. "He's Lord Vidor's manservant. But he _wasn't _the one to bring the wine to the table."

"You're right, it was no one I've ever seen in the castle before. I know Raulf by sight, if not by name," Mithian said. Gwen nodded her agreement.

"Let's go find Raulf. Then perhaps we need to pay a visit to Lord Vidor."

* * *

Dinner was passing at an incredibly slow pace. As they adjourned to the dining hall, Arthur found himself sitting near enough to Sarrum that he was forced to converse with the unpleasant man.

"Tell me, Arthur," Sarrum began. "How is it that you've changed your opinion of magic so thoroughly. I was sure that you were set to follow your father's example. Now you've embraced magic so passionately. Uther must be rolling in his grave."

Silence fell as everyone paused in their conversations to hear Arthur's reply. He gave Sarrum an inscrutable look, studying the other monarch as he pondered just how to answer. Finally, Arthur sat back in his chair and looked around the room at his eager audience, turning back to Sarrum and answering.

"I came to understand that my father hated magic because of his unimaginable grief. I cannot begin to imagine the pain he felt when my mother died. I cannot say for certain that I would have acted any differently were I in his position. But I _can _say that I have learned much in the last several years. That a man's worth is not determined by birth, but by his actions. That mercy is just as valuable as strength, and that forgiveness is not weakness.

"Much of that, I learned from Merlin; some of it willingly, and some of it after much sorrow. In the course of my _education_," Arthur paused, acknowledging the quiet chuckles that echoed amongst the spellbound monarchs. "I came to know my manservant for who he was- a good, kind, brave and noble man. I knew this long before I discovered that Merlin had magic."

"You call a man who lies noble?" Sarrum scoffed. Arthur laughed humorlessly.

"Would you admit to a birthright that would have your head on the chopping block?" Arthur asked rhetorically. "When I realized that Merlin had magic, I could not then suppose that that fact voided everything I knew about him as a person."

"And what then when this immense power he holds goes to his head and he betrays you?" Bayard asked nervously. Arthur acknowledged the other ruler's concern with a nod.

"I have faith that it will never come to that. I was taught from my infancy that all sorcerers were the same, that they sought nothing but darkness and that their power corrupts them- "

"And so it does. Morgana is proof enough of that," Sarrum interrupted, sneering.

"It is true that Morgana allowed herself to fall into darkness. But I _must _acknowledge that it was _not _magic that made her evil, and Merlin is not Morgana," Arthur answered firmly.

"Morgana was a very troubled soul, but it was not _magic _that made her what she was," Queen Annis agreed.

"Then what would you say made her that way?" Olaf asked curiously.

"Hate, bitterness, and a thirst for revenge. Just as those qualities can turn _any _good man or woman into a force of evil," Annis answered.

"Is it true that you held the witch?" King Lot asked Sarrum curiously. The ruler of the Amata grinned what Arthur could only describe as a feral smile.

"I did, her and a young dragon. I kept them chained in a dark pit. The sound of my voice was the only thing that reached them in the two years they remained my captives."

"You don't see that as unnecessarily cruel?" Lord Godwyn asked, his distaste evident. Sarrum looked at Godwyn with scorn.

"It was more than monsters like them deserved."

"How did you keep Morgana, a powerful High Priestess, imprisoned if you oppose magic so thoroughly?" Prince Gavin asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"The dragon was too young and small to escape the hole I threw them in. Morgana stayed to protect it, even though she was powerless when the dragon grew too large for the pit and became deformed as a result," Sarrum explained proudly. It put Arthur off his herb-crusted capers to hear the ruler of Amata speak of Morgana and Aithusa, as Merlin had called the youthful dragon, in such a way. It made the king glad for the first time that his Court Warlock was not there. Considering the way Merlin had interacted with the Great Dragon, as though they were brothers, the dragonlord would have likely reacted in a way that would have put Sarrum off the peace talks entirely.

"And you honestly believed they deserved such treatment?" Arthur asked somberly.

"Morgana killed many people, did she not?" Sarrum asked, ignoring the fact that he himself was guilty of the same crime.

"She did, as have we all," Arthur admitted. Sarrum said nothing, but grinned wickedly.

"Morgana's is a tragic tale," Rodor said diplomatically, and the others resumed their conversations. Arthur, though, could not get over the feeling that Sarrum was not a man to be trusted.

* * *

The hallways were bustling with servants bearing dinner trays as Gwen, Mithian and Merlin made their way to the noble's wing. Merlin and Gwen had reasoned that Raulf would most likely be in his master's quarters serving Vidor's midday meal. If he was, they could question both the manservant and Lord Vidor in one fell swoop. They had just left the guest wing, however, when they came across Mordred, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan and Leon coming in from their morning training session.

"Your Highnesses," Leon greeted, nodding respectfully to the trio.

"Ladies," Gwaine said, smiling at Gwen and Mithian, but looking at Dolma in confusion. "Excuse me, but I'm afraid we haven't met."

"Of course not, Sir Gwaine, this is my aunt, Princess Dolma," Mithian answered, smiling at the knights.

"I was not aware that your Aunt was coming," Leon said, worried that he'd missed an important detail in his duties.

"Oh no, no one knew I was coming," Merlin-Dolma said, smiling disarmingly at each of the knights. "I just arrived this morning."

"We're giving her a tour," Gwen said amicably and Mithian quickly nodded in agreement.

"You look familiar," Gwaine mused, pointing his finger at Dolma.

"It's the family resemblance," Merlin-Dolma answered, giggling as he swept his hair away from his face. "Everyone says so."

"I'm not sure that's it," Elyan said, squinting as he looked between the princess and Dolma.

"No, it is," Merlin-Dolma said, looking desperately at Gwen and Mithian, who were suspiciously silent. Just then, Merlin felt a familiar mind brush his and he quickly locked eyes with Mordred. The Druid-knight stood frozen, his eyes wide and incredulous.

"_Merlin_?!" Mordred asked telepathically, his eyebrows rising comically as a grin spread across his face. Merlin-Dolma smiled innocently, patting his hair down and giving a delicate chuckle.

"_As you see, I am in disguise, and __**not**__ one of my choosing. If you say __**anything**__ about Dolma's true identity, I'll make you speak in goat bleats for the rest of the week."_

The amusement was instantly gone from Mordred's expression. Gwaine and Elyan were both looking intently at Dolma, trying to place the elderly princess' features within their memories. Percival, however, was watching the interaction between Mordred and Dolma, noting the subtle, silent conversation that passed between the two.

"I'm sure I've seen you before, Princess Dolma," Gwaine said, his brow wrinkling in concentration as he wagged his finger at her determinedly. Merlin smiled with thinly veiled impatience.

"I'm sure you _haven't_," he replied, pulling his hood a little closer to his face.

"Your eyes_ do_ seem very familiar," Leon acknowledged.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls," Merlin replied, chuckling nervously. Mordred bit down on his lip to keep from laughing as Merlin's anxiousness grew ever greater. Gwen began to send subtle signals to her brother, encouraging him to move along.

"I'm sure we've taken enough of your time," Elyan said, looking at Gwen in confusion when the queen smiled brilliantly.

"Yes, we should let you get back to your duties," Mithian agreed, guiding _Dolma _around the knights and continuing along down the corridor. Merlin groaned though, when he heard Percival's amused voice echo down the hallway.

"Anyone seen Merlin this morning?"

"I am never doing this again," Merlin said, dropping Dolma's voice as they entered a deserted and little-used passage to the noble's wing.

"Look at the bright side, Merlin," Gwen offered.

"What is that?" Merlin asked, tripping once more over his skirts.

"I've not thought of it yet," the queen admitted. "I'll let you know when I do."

"Thank you, Gwen," Merlin said sarcastically, yanking open the door to the dark, narrow staircase leading to their destination. Both Mithian and Gwen, however, gasped in shock when the pale, disrobed form of Raulf fell through the doorway. Merlin hurriedly crouched beside the manservant, taking in Raulf's clammy grey skin and the head wound that had barely scabbed over.

"Is he alive?" Gwen asked fearfully.

"Only just," Merlin replied, looking up at his wife and the thick cloak draped over her shoulders. "I need your cloak, then I need you to run back and grab one of the knights. We need to get him to Gaius' chambers."

Mithian shed her cloak without hesitation, handing it to Merlin and running back down the passageway.

"Will he be alright?" the queen asked.

"It depends on the severity of the head wound," Merlin replied. "He's likely been here all night, exposed to the cold. Whoever brought me the wine must have slipped him something to give him the stomach ache that Elfa mentioned so that he would leave the feast. Then they must have clubbed him over the head to steal his servant's garb."

"Do you think Lord Vidor is involved?" Gwen whispered as Merlin checked over Raulf's pulse and breathing.

"I'm not sure," Merlin admitted. "Though it would have been fairly simple for Vidor to have slipped something stomach-souring to his manservant." The warlock gently probed the cut on Raulf's forehead, grimacing when he felt the slight crack in the manservant's skull. "Raulf may have had a little help falling down these stairs."

"Is he bleeding inside his head?" Gwen asked worriedly, recalling Morgana's similar injury. Merlin said nothing, but shifted Raulf to lay flat on his back and raised the servant's eyelids.

"Damn," Merlin muttered when he saw Raulf's eyes were both dilated fully; never a good sign after a head injury. Merlin looked up and Gwen whirled around as they heard Mithian returning with Leon, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine and Mordred behind her. Merlin rolled his eyes, but acknowledged that hiding his identity from the knights was futile at this point. Thus, Merlin took a deep breath, gathering his magic to him. The newcomers skid to a halt when Merlin's voice rang out, deep and imbued with powerful magic. _"Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!"_

Raulf shuddered minutely, then relaxed into a peaceful slumber. Mithian and the knights stood to the side in amazement; Gwaine was especially stunned by Dolma's change of voice.

"I didn't believe you, Percival, and I apologize. Because that was _not_ a woman's voice," Gwaine said incredulously. Percival smiled.

"Well spotted," Leon chuckled.

"Is _this _what your strange signals were about?" Elyan asked Gwen. "Merlin dressed like a _woman_?"

"It was Arthur's idea," Merlin grumbled petulantly. Leon grimaced in sympathy.

"We're trying to keep Merlin out of sight until we figure out who tried to kill him," Gwen explained in frustration.

"Obviously we didn't count on your exceptional powers of deduction," Mithian chuckled, looking at Percival and Mordred specifically.

"I didn't say a word!" Mordred vowed seriously.

"I know you didn't, Mordred," Merlin sighed. "Percival, would you be so good as to take Raulf here to Gaius?"

Percival nodded and bent down to gather the unconscious servant in his arms.

"I'll go with him to Gaius'," Gwen said, following the large knight as they made their way to the physician's chambers.

"We'll be right behind you," Merlin said, and Gwen raised a hand in acknowledgement.

"Mordred?" Merlin asked, and his apprentice instantly answered.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"Go to Lord Vidor's chambers. He's not complained of his servant being missing; I have a feeling something is amiss there. Then report to us at Gaius' chambers."

"I'll go with him," Leon offered, and Merlin nodded. Leon and Mordred hurried up the stairs to the noble's wing. Merlin looked up at his wife and the two remaining knights.

"Elyan? Gwaine?"

"Yes?" Gwaine asked, eyeing Merlin in his Dolma disguise with no attempt to mask his amusement.

"Make a sweep of Mithian's and my chambers. I have no doubt that someone has been looking for me this morning. Word must have gotten around that I survived my unfortunate poisoning."

"Of course, Princess Dolma," Gwaine replied as Elyan nodded his acknowledgement before they both turned to head in the direction of Merlin's chambers.

"And Gwaine?" Merlin called, causing the ale-loving knight to turn around.

"Yes, _Princess Dolma_?"

"I'll give you the same warning I gave Mordred. One word of this to anyone else and you'll be bleating like a goat for a week."

* * *

**A/N: *giggle, giggle, snort* Oh, this chapter just makes me laugh. :)**


	19. Goose Chase

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks yet again for your lovely reviews! I am delighted to read them:) **

* * *

**Goose Chase**

Mordred and Leon made their way down the noble's wing towards Vidor's chambers, the both of them casually alert. A servant had nearly been murdered the night before, in addition to the attempt on Merlin's life. Someone was trying to cover their tracks and Leon had no desire to spook them deeper into hiding.

After nodding to a few ladies of the court as they passed, Leon and Mordred came to a stop at Lord Vidor's door. Leon knocked and stepped back patiently, though soon after knocked again. The third time, Leon practically pounded on the door.

"Lord Vidor?" he called out, looking at Mordred briefly before taking the handle and pushing the door open. The curtains were all still drawn even though it was midday and the fire in the hearth was nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes.

"Lord Vidor?" Leon called out again, even as Mordred held out a hand.

"_Leoht_," he said, conjuring a small ball of light as Merlin had taught him. Mordred raised his hand high, illuminating the nobleman's chambers in a dim white light, casting deep shadows against the far wall.

"That is certainly easier than trying to light a candle in the dark," Leon chuckled, moving around the table to draw the curtains for some sunlight. Before he made it over to the window, however, he saw a crumpled form on the floor.

"Mordred, bring the light over here!" Leon ordered, and the young knight hastily came around the table as well. Leon stepped closer, careful to avoid the sticky pool of blood surrounding the body and nudged the curled man onto his back, taking in the large stab wound in the nobleman's belly. Leon sighed in frustration and stood up.

"Lord Vidor," Mordred said in defeat. "At least we know now why he didn't open the door."

"And why he hadn't complained about his missing servant," Leon groused, hurrying towards the doorway. "Unfortunately, it also leaves us with more questions than we started with."

"What now?" Mordred asked, following after Camelot's first knight.

"We'll need to report Lord Vidor's death to the king. Then, we meet everyone else in the physician's chambers."

* * *

Gwaine prided himself on his habit of obstinately defying anyone of authority. Anyone, that is, save for a gangly warlock-turned-lord. Gwaine had no problem with Merlin's authority and not because the king's advisor could kill ten men with a sneeze. The warlock had earned Gwaine's respect the moment the scrawny man had fearlessly (foolishly?) mouthed off to two huge thugs in a tavern.

Unfortunately, in the days since Merlin had become a nobleman of considerable rank, Gwaine had heard more than one noble-born knight grumbling about being outranked by the former servant. Gwaine had no doubt that those men would have balked at receiving and following orders from the newly appointed Court Warlock. But it felt entirely natural to the easy-going knight to follow Merlin's lead. If he hadn't known Hunith personally, Gwaine would have thought that Merlin was actually hiding a noble background just as Gwaine himself was.

"Who do you think is trying to kill Merlin?" Elyan asked quietly as they made their way to the chambers that Merlin and Mithian shared.

"I wouldn't put it past Sarrum."

"You don't think it's Odin? Surely he is upset by Merlin's marriage to Mithian?"

"Nah. This is no unrequited lover's quarrel. Grumpy as he is, Odin isn't stupid. He knows that Merlin defeated Morgana; Odin was working with the witch, so naturally, he knows just how powerful Merlin is to have beaten her."

"Why not Alined, or Lot or Bayard? They haven't been to friendly," Elyan reasoned.

"Bayard's too noble. He wouldn't step a toe outside of his precious honor. Lot isn't stupid either. I wouldn't go so far as to say he's a coward, but I bet he would rather hide under a rock than tangle with Merlin after Cenred's sticky end at Morgause's hand. Alined is vile, have no doubt. He's got an agenda, but I haven't quite worked it out yet. But Sarrum? He's definitely a dangerous man and he hates magic."

"How can you assume all of that?" Elyan asked incredulously. Gwaine shook his head and grinned.

"When you spend as much time as I have traveling among the dregs of society, you learn how to read a man very quickly. Besides, did you hear the Amatans at the feast, boasting about their _specialized_ skills? They were intentionally vague, but they are a people led by a warlord. I'd bet a week's worth of ale that they meant assassinations."

"I'm not stupid enough to take that bet. If you turned out to be right you would drink me out of all my gold," Elyan scoffed.

"Well, it was worth a try," Gwaine said roguishly. Elyan rolled his eyes and elbowed his fellow knight.

They both fell silent, though, when they reached the warlock's chambers and noticed that the door was standing ajar. Gwaine looked at Elyan with a raised eyebrow. With a curt nod from the queen's brother, Gwaine pulled a long knife from his belt and used it to nudge the door open further. His caution was rewarded when an arrow embedded itself in the thick oak planks. Gwaine and Elyan both tensed, waiting for an attacker to appear. After a moment of silence, Gwaine risked a quick glance around the door jam and relaxed when he saw the crossbow rigged to fire itself.

"Someone is not playing around," Gwaine muttered, cautiously stepping into the room, not willing to assume that the unmanned crossbow meant the assassin was gone. Elyan followed closely behind Gwaine, his sword drawn and at the ready. Both of them swept their gaze around the room as they took in the parchments scattered haphazardly from the desk, the curtains torn from their rods and the mattress and pillows that had been tossed off the bed and torn apart.

"Someone who was _very _angry that Merlin wasn't anywhere to be found," Elyan agreed. Both men turned quickly at a muffled sob from the wardrobe. Gwaine rushed towards the cupboard and yanked it open, revealing Mithian's maid, Tillie.

"Are you alright?" Elyan asked kindly as the shaking maidservant collapsed into Gwaine's outstretched arms in grateful sobs.

"What happened?" Gwaine asked as Tillie struggled to gain control of herself.

"I was bringing up some laundry," Tillie sniffed, pointing to a basket of Mithian's gowns that had been upended all over the floor. "I had just put the basket on the table when the outer door banged open like someone had kicked it in. I was frightened, because Merlin and Mithian never come in like that. So I hid in the back of the cupboard."

"Did you see who it was?" Gwaine asked eagerly, but Tillie shook her head.

"I daren't look out while they were in here, but it was two of them. They had deep voices."

"Could you hear what they said?" Elyan asked hopefully, though Tillie shook her head tearfully.

"I was hiding behind Merlin's ceremonial cloak; it's very heavy. I couldn't tell what they were saying."

Gwaine and Elyan looked at each other determinedly.

"You need to get out of here," Elyan said. "Go home and settle yourself down. We'll tell the princess where you've gone."

"Thank you, sir knights," Tillie said, curtseying before wiping her eyes on her apron and hurrying gratefully from the room. Gwaine and Elyan followed after, though Gwaine paused to pull the bolt from the door and look it over.

"Aren't these Nemeth's colors?" he asked Elyan, pointing to the dyed feathers adorning the arrow.

"I believe they are," Elyan confirmed. "But even if they secretly wanted to kill Merlin, they wouldn't risk the princess like that."

"No, but someone else might. Perhaps some of those _specialized _skills at work?" Gwaine mused, tucking the arrow into his belt to show to Mithian.

"Looks like it," Elyan agreed, and the two of them hurried towards Gaius' chambers.

* * *

It didn't take long before Leon and Mordred found Arthur in the dining hall with the other monarchs. The King of Camelot was looking decidedly worn by the events of the last couple days; thus Leon was reluctant to reveal this latest turn of events. However, the peace talks would all be for naught if there was an assassin killing people left and right.

Arthur looked relieved to see his most senior knight as the others around him finished their dinners, compounding Leon's guilt over adding to the king's burden even further.

"My Lord," Leon greeted, coming to a stop beside Arthur respectfully.

"What is it Leon," Arthur asked.

"Might I have a word with you?" Leon asked as casually as he could manage.

"Of course. Let's have a short recess this afternoon," Arthur said, addressing the room at large with the last before standing and leading Leon and Mordred from the dining hall. Arthur did not stop until he had led Leon and Mordred into a storage room three corridors away from the dining hall, hoping that it was enough to discourage any eavesdroppers. Then he finally turned to Leon with a questioning look.

"What is it, Leon?"

"Sire," Leon began, but Arthur held up his hands.

"Please, we are alone, I've had enough 'Sire' these last few days to last me a lifetime," Arthur said in frustration. Leon smiled and nodded gratefully to his friend and king.

"Arthur, we've a new problem," Leon said gently.

"Which is?"

Leon wasted no time in explaining the most recent developments. When he fell silent, Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of frustration.

"Let's get to Gaius' chambers and see what everyone else has found. We'll have to send someone up to fetch Vidor in a bit," Arthur reasoned, then turned on his heel and headed towards his physician's chambers.

* * *

Merlin and Mithian made their way slowly to Gaius' chambers, slowed once again by Merlin's aged frame and clumsiness with the floor-length skirt. Several times, they were waylaid by noble ladies wanting to chat. Not long after they left such a group, they came across Lord Geoffrey just outside the library.

"Princess Mithian!" Geoffrey greeted, nodding respectfully to Mithian before eyeing Merlin-as-Dolma curiously. "Is this your aunt? Princess Dolma?"

"Yes," Mithian answered quickly, even as Merlin bit back a groan. The gossip had certainly spread, however, and Geoffrey's eyes lit up.

"I'm delighted to meet you again, it has been many years," the librarian said, extending his hand in offer. Merlin looked wide-eyed at Mithian for a second before putting on a forced smile and extending his own hand. Much to Merlin's horror, Geoffrey delicately grasped his fingers and bent low over _Dolma's _hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. Merlin affected his Dolma voice and let out a giggle. He had been trying to sound girlish, though the high-pitch was more akin to panic than femininity.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey mistook the emotion in Dolma's voice for flirtatiousness and smiled a roguish grin. As soon as possible, Merlin snatched his hand back and tried to look coy in return, but it came off as more squeamish than coquettish.

"Have you had dinner yet?" Geoffrey asked curiously, raising his eyebrow at Dolma invitingly.

"Oh, ah... we were just... ah..."

Mithian took pity on her mortified husband and smiled disarmingly at the librarian.

"We really must get back to our chambers; Aunt Dolma was just saying a moment ago that she felt faint. Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Merlin said in his best Dolma voice, fanning himself with one hand while leaning dramatically on Mithian. "I'm afraid I must go lie down."

"Perhaps I should escort you?" Geoffrey offered helpfully. "I wouldn't want you to collapse in the corridor."

"NO!" Dolma said, shocking the librarian as she instantly straightened before smiling and calming herself. "I meant that I can get along just fine, I just need my dear Mithian's help."

"Of course," Geoffrey said affably. "Do be careful on the stairs, though."

"Thank you, we will be," Mithian said, guiding Dolma swiftly down the passageway.

"I need to get out of this dress," Merlin moaned a few hallways and staircases later.

"We're almost there," Mithian answered soothingly, trying hard for Merlin's sake to keep her laughter at bay. Finally, they crossed the courtyard and entered the physician's tower where Merlin took the spiraling steps as quickly as his aged body would allow. Mithian was, surprisingly enough, hard-pressed to keep up with him as he barreled through Gaius' door, pulling her in behind him and locking it firmly with a whispered spell.

"Someone chasing you?"

Merlin whirled around to see Arthur and Gwen standing beside Gaius, Leon and Mordred. Percival was sitting at the table with Daegal, grinning at Merlin's harried expression.

"No one was chasing us," Mithian assured the king, though at Merlin's scoff, she amended her statement. "Well not _literally _chasing us, _figuratively _is another question altogether."

"What?" Arthur asked, looking at Merlin-as-Dolma and forgetting the stresses of earlier when he remembered watching Guinevere and Mithian get Merlin dressed for the day's subterfuge. He covered his mouth in an attempt to smother his mirthful snickering.

"You wouldn't be laughing if it was _you _Lord Geoffrey was flirting with!" Merlin said grumpily, then clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing what he'd just said aloud. Arthur lost his composure then, laughing long and hard until the door handle rattled impatiently. Merlin rolled his eyes and turned to allow the door to unlock, letting Gwaine and Elyan spill into the room.

"Princess Dolma," Gwaine greeted cheerfully. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh shut up," Merlin grumbled, rattling every jar and vial in the room with his barely controlled magic as he stomped towards the tiny bedroom in the back. "I'm getting changed and I'm _never _doing this again!"

Everyone watched in amusement as Merlin climbed the steps to the room and shut the door behind him quite firmly. Mithian followed more slowly, knowing that Merlin wouldn't be able to get out of the dress by himself. Sure enough, the door opened a moment later and Merlin called out in slight distress.

"Mithian! I need your help!"

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked mischievously. "Can't you just vanish it?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the smirking king and turned around, muttering incomprehensible threats about vanishing something of Arthur's.

"One of these days you're going to be sorry you teased him so much," Gwen said, her scolding rather ineffectual as she was struggling not to laugh.

Mithian smiled at the queen, then composed her expression and entered the small bedroom. The princess couldn't help but frown sympathetically at Merlin's plight. The warlock was standing with his arms crossed and his hood peeled back, his grain and wool bosom tossed carelessly on the bed. He had obviously been tugging at his laces in an effort to remove the dress. Mithian was somewhat surprised to note that Merlin's features were still aged and womanly.

"You're not stuck, are you?" Mithian asked with concern.

"In this dress, yes," Merlin complained.

"No, I mean as Dolma," Mithian explained. "I expected that you would have removed the spell by now."

"I've had enough experience with using aging spells now that I don't believe I'm stuck as Dolma. But I _am _quite a bit smaller in this state and I'm already laced in as tight as I can stand. I need to get this dress off before I can restore myself and I'm afraid I've made a terrible mess of the ties in my rush to get out of this thing."

Mithian smiled in suppressed amusement, then walked up to her husband with a teasing smirk.

"That's such a shame," Mithian teased. "Because it has been several hours since I've kissed my husband and I can't very well kiss him when he's looking like this." Mithian gestured at Merlin, looking from head to foot before grabbing Merlin's shoulders and deftly spinning him in place. Merlin was caught off-guard, distracted as he was by Mithian's flirtatious tone, thus he spun on the spot without any resistance. Merlin groaned loudly in relief when Mithian's deft fingers made short work of the knotted laces and loosened the restrictive bodice.

"Shh, do you want to give Gwaine something more to tease you with?" Mithian said with a whispered giggle even as Merlin uttered the words of the old tongue that would restore his normal form. Mithian watched in rapt fascination as his spine straightened, his shoulders broadened and his hair darkened and became shorter. With his back still to her, Merlin took a deep breath and reached up to touch his face. With a relieved sigh, he turned on his heel and captured Mithian in his arms, grinning mischievously at the princess' eager expression.

"What was that you were saying?" Merlin asked.

"I have not kissed my husband in several hours," Mithian said with wide, playful-yet-innocent eyes.

"That is simply something that _must _be rectified immediately," Merlin murmured, leaning down and capturing Mithian's lips with his own. For several passionate minutes, Merlin lost himself in the sensations. Finally, he pulled back and Mithian blinked her eyes dazedly.

"Not that I'm complaining, but I didn't quite expect that intensity," Mithian said breathlessly. Merlin chuckled.

"I've been wearing a _dress _and parading around as a _woman _all morning. To add insult to injury, _Lord Geoffrey_ kissed my hand and _flirted_ with me not an hour ago. I had to do something to make up for the utter emasculation I've suffered through today. Contrary to what Arthur would have you believe, I am _not _a girl."

"I'm sorry I've laughed at you," Mithian said softly, her voice tender and genuine as she stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. Merlin smiled, accepting Mithian's apology with a brief press of his lips to her forehead.

"It's alright, I can't really blame you. I _know _I looked ridiculous. Had it been Arthur dressed as a woman, I would have been laughing right alongside you, and someday, I'll find a way to make it happen because he took such enjoyment out of doing it to me."

"I think perhaps Gwaine would make an excellent woman as well, all that shiny hair," Mithian mused. Merlin's eyes sparkled with mischief at the possibilities.

"An excellent idea, but for now, I should get changed and we should get back to the discussion out there."

"Such a pity," Mithian said impishly. Merlin raised his eyebrows warningly as he pulled his clothing on.

"_You_ were the one to say that we shouldn't give Gwaine any more reason to tease us," Merlin said as he pulled his coat on and stalked over to Mithian playfully.

"_You_ were the one to say that we had to get back to the discussion," Mithian reasoned, even as she was leaning into Merlin's impending kiss. After a few delightful minutes, they emerged from the bedroom, a bit rumpled but otherwise back to normal. Gwaine raised his eyebrow at their disheveled hair and kiss-swollen lips, but said nothing for once. He didn't fancy testing Merlin's threat about vanishing important bits.

"What have you all found?" Arthur asked, quite effectively dampening the jovial mood in the room.

"As we reported earlier," Leon began, looking around at those who hadn't heard already, "Mordred and I found Lord Vidor dead of a stab wound in his chambers."

Merlin raised his eyebrows at the news and looked at Raulf, unconscious on the patient's bed, with some concern.

"It's possible that Raulf could identify his attacker. Plenty of people would have seen you bringing him here. We should assume that whoever tried to kill him will try again," Merlin reasoned. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"We'll post a guard at the door," Arthur said, though Gwaine shook his head and explained what he and Elyan had found in their search of Merlin and Mithian's rooms.

"I think this is the work of an experienced assassin. Raulf here may need more than just guards."

"We'll take it in turns," Leon offered. Arthur nodded his approval.

"This," Gwaine said as he pulled the arrow from his belt, "was the bolt that we pulled out of the door."

Mithian gasped at the sight of it, though Merlin's expression turned stormy. Nearly everyone leaned back subconsciously at the power that was suddenly and inadvertently radiating off of the warlock.

"Merlin," Mithian murmured soothingly, seeing everyone's reflexive action. Merlin looked at his wife, taking a deep breath and reigning in his magic.

"That could have hit you or Tillie."

"It could have hit you, too," Mithian countered.

"Whoever is doing this doesn't care who they kill or hurt. We _have _to stop them," Merlin said.

"Does the arrow look familiar?" Gwaine asked, holding the feathered end up and offering the bolt to Mithian. The princess furrowed her brow and took it from Gwaine, rolling it in her fingers to look at each feather.

"These are certainly Nemeth's colors," Mithian said curtly.

"That's what we thought," Elyan confirmed.

"No one in Nemeth would risk killing or hurting Mithian, even if they did hate me. This has to be a set up," Merlin growled.

"And they've made their first mistake," Mithian said triumphantly. "This is definitely _not_ the work of Nemethian fletchers. Our arrows are made exclusively from birch wood; this is cedar and the fletching thread is wrong. In Nemeth, the thread is pulled through beeswax; this thread appears to have been dipped in tallow."

"Impressive knowledge for a princess," Gwaine said honestly, making no effort to conceal his surprised expression.

"I may be a princess, but I am also a hunter who prefers a crossbow, if you would recall. I believe in knowing as much about your weapon as possible, even so much as pestering the royal fletcher until he gave in and showed a princess his craft."

Merlin smiled proudly at his wife even as Arthur grinned triumphantly.

"Excellent. All we have to do is find which kingdom's fletching style matches this arrow," Arthur said, looking at Leon, Percival, Gwaine and Elyan. "I'll trust you four with that task."

"I'd be glad to do a bit of snooping," Gwaine grinned. "Hasn't been enough action around here."

"Speak for yourself," Merlin scoffed, chuckling at Gwaine's facetiousness. A low groan from the patient's bed caused them all to turn expectantly. Raulf was stirring, clutching at his head as he struggled to sit up.

"Raulf?" Gwen asked, moving closer to the cot even as Gaius put a hand on the pale man's shoulder to keep him from getting up.

"My head," Raulf groaned.

"Yes, you took a rather nasty fall," Gaius said, then turned to get Daegal's attention. "Get some of my headache remedy prepared, double-strength for now."

Daegal nodded, rushing over to the physician's herb stock and selecting a few dried sprigs of various herbs and getting to work. Arthur moved to stand just behind Guinevere, careful not to overwhelm the injured man with both his king and queen standing over him.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Gwen asked gently, looking from Merlin to Raulf significantly.

"I was... at the feast. I... I was... helping Elfa serve wine. After a while my stomach started to hurt and cook ordered me out of the kitchen. She said she'd have me in the stocks if I got sick over anything. I was going to stop by my master's chambers to prepare them for the night while he was at the feast, " Raulf said, his eyes widening as he looked to the window and the bright sunshine streaming through it. "I didn't attend to Lord Vidor last night or this morning! I'll be in the stocks for a week at least!"

"No, you won't be," Gwen said firmly. Though Raulf's wide eyes betrayed his disbelief.

"Lord Vidor will be very angry," Raulf said.

"No, he won't be," Arthur replied. Raulf shrank back a bit at being addressed by the king, and Arthur continued more gently. "I am...sorry...to tell you that Lord Vidor has been killed. Anything you can tell us about what happened to you could help us find who's responsible."

Raulf sat stunned for a moment, then slowly nodded and furrowed his brow in concentration.

"I opened the door. The one at the top of the servants' back staircase in the noble wing to go to Lord Vidor's chambers... But something hit me in the head and I started to fall backwards. I saw just a glimpse of a man out of the corner of my eye."

"Did you see his face? Did you recognise him?" Gwen asked eagerly, though Raulf shook his head and squinted at the distant ceiling.

"No. I didn't. I just remember seeing a leather breastplate. Then nothing. I'm actually rather surprised that I'm not dead," Raulf said, touching his head again, searching for his injury.

"You probably would have been, if not for Merlin," Gaius said, looking proudly at the warlock.

"What?" Raulf asked, looking at his former fellow servant with undisguised disbelief. Merlin just shrugged, grateful that he wasn't still wearing his Dolma disguise for Raulf to see.

"You were gravely injured. Merlin healed you with magic," Mithian said, explaining when her husband remained silent. Raulf's eyes widened in surprise, with a touch of distrust.

The warlock's stomach sank at Raulf's not-entirely-positive reaction. He had expected this to happen at some point, but Merlin had believed he'd have to go into the town to find someone who seemed uneasy with who and what he was. Though he supposed he ought not to have been _so _surprised. Raulf _was_ Lord Vidor's manservant and he had likely been exposed to the nobleman's bitter vitriol; owing to Merlin's position as the king's manservant, he had never worked all that closely with Raulf. Thus, there was not an existing trust between them like Merlin had with other castle servants and even the knights. Raulf was just one of many citizens of Camelot who would be distrustful of the warlock, yet he now owed his life to Merlin.

"A little gratitude in such situations is generally customary," Gwen said not unkindly, understanding the exchange between the servant and the warlock for what it was all too well. Raulf's expression softened at the gentle remonstrance from his queen and he looked at Merlin with grudging respect.

"Thanks for that, I suppose," Raulf said, and Merlin nodded silently.

"That's enough for now," Gaius admonished as Daegal rushed over with a small glass vial of the herbal concoction he'd been working on. The physician smelled it and raised it up to the light, studying it for a moment before smiling at the boy. "Young Daegal is a much quicker study of herbs than you ever were, Merlin."

"That is not surprising," Merlin allowed, smiling encouragingly at the blushing youth. "How often did I actually have time to study _herbs_?"

"Here now," Gaius said, rolling his eyes at Merlin and handing the vial over to Raulf, who downed it in one go. "It will help with your pain and help you to rest a bit longer."

As soon as Raulf's eyes grew heavy and closed in sleep, Arthur looked significantly at his knights.

"Which kingdoms use leather armor?"

"Amata," Gwaine answered immediately, his suspicions growing further.

"Essetir uses some leather armor as well," Percival added.

"And Caerleon," Leon said, though his face showed his doubt at Annis' involvement.

"Meredor as well," Elyan added.

"Precisely. Concentrate on those kingdoms first in your search for arrows like the one Gwaine found. Ask their knights to train with you, be discreet about it. If you don't find any similar amongst those kingdoms that use leather armor, then move to the others. We cannot disregard the possibility that there is more than one kingdom working against us," Arthur instructed, and the knights nodded their compliance.

"What about me, Sire?" Mordred asked the king.

"I have to get back to the talks, so I can't be there to protect Merlin," Arthur said regretfully, though the warlock rolled his eyes. Arthur ignored him and looked directly at Merlin's apprentice. "Keep close to your master and watch his back while I can't."

"I'll be fine_," _Merlin interrupted with a roll of his eyes. "As your _master, _as Arthur puts it, I am instructing you to stay here and protect Raulf."

Arthur sighed, but did not protest. "Merlin? The assassin is bound to misstep sometime. You should become Dolma again and keep looking."

"No," Merlin said firmly.

"You may not like it, but it's the best way to keep you hidden," Arthur argued, but Merlin just shook his head, his mind made up.

"No. Not again. If they want me, they can come and get me. I will not hide any longer."

"You're not immune to arrows or other weapons, Merlin. You may have magic, but it is possible to surprise you and catch you off guard. I've seen it happen," Arthur protested.

"He _won't _be alone," Mithian said firmly, and Merlin looked at her gratefully.

"That's all well and good, but you need something more, Merlin. Perhaps a weapon in addition to your magic," Gwaine suggested.

"I'm deadlier than any weapon just on my own. Or don't you remember the way I fought Morgana?" Merlin argued somberly.

"I remember sure enough," Gwaine replied.

"The problem is that you don't _look_ particularly threatening," Arthur added. "And this assassin has no recollection of your battle with Morgana. You need to look the part."

"Thanks, I think," Merlin chuckled facetiously.

"Perhaps if you just carried a sword?" Leon suggested. "Your new rank would allow you to do so."

"But I don't _need_ a sword," Merlin insisted.

"And _no one_ would find him particularly threatening with one anyway. Rather like arming a child with a wooden stick. Harmless, but quite entertaining," Arthur said dryly. Merlin scowled at the king's smug expression.

"Perhaps a certain weapon of the magical variety, then?" Gaius suggested, looking at Merlin significantly. The warlock raised his eyebrows in question, then nodded slowly as he made the connection.

"I've just the thing," Merlin said, bounding once more towards his former bedroom. A moment later, he emerged carrying the Sidhe staff.

"Is that a... quarterstaff?" Percival asked incredulously.

"No, it's a _magical _staff, made by the Sidhe in Avalon," Merlin said, eyeing the weapon respectfully.

"I suppose _that _looks more menacing in your hands than a sword. But what does it do? Are you even any good with it?" Arthur asked disbelievingly. Merlin rolled his eyes and looked around the room, brightening when he saw the unlit logs in the fireplace across the room.

"Don't destroy anything!" Gaius warned as Merlin grasped the staff in the middle and turned himself sideways, as though presenting the smallest target to an attacker. Merlin silently leveled the staff parallel to the ground and without a word, flung a bolt of magical energy towards the fireplace, igniting the logs waiting there.

"You won't have that sort of time when you're taking on an attacker," Arthur said doubtfully. Merlin smiled a wry grin.

"You still don't understand how many _attackers _I've faced for you, do you?"

"Of course I do. I'm just worried that you're being over-confident with your aim and ability with this weapon. It's not like you've had the time to properly train with it," Arthur explained. Merlin chuckled, hefting the staff for a second before whipping it around and rapidly sending three precise bolts of energy to Gaius' various candelabras, lighting the center candle on each one.

"Looks pretty accurate to me. Impressive," Gwaine chuckled. Arthur's mouth dropped open in utter disbelief before he too nodded in agreement.

"Alright then. I've got to get back," Arthur conceded.

"I'll come with you," Gwen offered. "I think we've got a few good leads, and between Merlin, Mithian and the knights we have everything under control. I believe it is you who could use my support now."

Arthur smiled gratefully at his wife, nodding his agreement with her assessment. Then he turned to look at the others gathered in the room.

"Good luck," the king said to all, though he looked significantly at his Court Warlock before offering his arm to Guinevere. Merlin nodded in acknowledgement, ready to defend not Camelot, but himself.

* * *

Sarrum wandered slowly back to his assigned guest chambers to wait out the afternoon break. However, each gossiping throng of courtiers he passed were whispering about a pale, limp servant being carried to the physician's chambers by a knight of Camelot. Sarrum grew more incensed with every whisper, as he had a very good idea who that limp servant had been and he expected cleaner work from his best man.

The Amatan warlord burst angrily into his rooms; the young servant girl changing the linens scurried out as soon as she saw the glare Sarrum sent in her direction. Throwing himself into his chair and rubbing his temples in frustration, Sarrum almost missed the quiet footsteps that moved across the room.

"You're being sloppy," Sarrum growled without looking up. He knew Albin's footsteps when he heard them. "I trained you better than this."

"You've never tried to carry out a job in a castle crawling with royalty and their guards though," Albin defended himself.

"No, because I wouldn't have failed the _first_ time," Sarrum admonished, looking at his protege for the first time.

"This Merlin is harder to find than most marks are," Albin reasoned.

"Arthur was not bluffing then? The warlock still lives, I take it?"

"Aye. There has been no sight of him since he was carried out of the feast last night. I set a trap for him in his chambers, but the drunkard knight and the queen's brother spoiled it."

"Then find him and make sure he dies. Stand over his body until the last breath leaves him and he's beyond any help," Sarrum said coldly. Albin nodded and turned to leave when Sarrum spoke up again. "And find that servant of Vidor's and slit his throat before he has the chance to talk."

Albin said nothing, but paused long enough that Sarrum knew he'd been heard. Then the warlord leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table, grinding his teeth in irritation that the warlock was still living. Never had one of his jobs gone so poorly. This Merlin was certainly strong to have resisted the poison as long as he had and survive.

A few moments later, King Alined let himself in, much to Sarrum's increasing irritation.

"What do you want?" Sarrum growled.

"You've failed yet again, I take it?" Alined asked smugly.

"It's only a matter of time," Sarrum said cruelly.

"Not in this case," Alined argued. "Merlin has powerful magic. You need to fight fire with fire."

"And I suppose you think you would be better suited to eliminating the warlock? Because you stoop to using such unnaturalness as magic?"

"Merlin is known as Emrys amongst the Druids for a reason, Sarrum. You are a fool to think you can kill him like one of your former petty targets."

"You just focus on Arthur and I'll take care of Merlin, like I _said_ I would," Sarrum sneered. It was a matter of pride; he could not allow a job to go unfinished just because the target was a powerful warlock.

"That's my problem though, you see?" Alined said in a tone of false boredom as he studied his fingernails.

"What do you mean?" Sarrum asked.

"I can't very well kill Arthur if his greatest protector is still walking around, now can I?"

"So it's my fault now that you are just as incapable of killing Arthur now as you were when last you tried?"

"_Merlin_ is _exactly_ why my man failed the last time!" Alined exclaimed in exasperation. "Get it done."

Sarrum watched in barely suppressed fury as Alined turned his back on him and left as abruptly as he'd come. The leader of the Amata ground his teeth once again, vowing to himself to properly deal with Alined after Merlin and Arthur were dead.

* * *

Leon led his three fellow knights down to the training grounds, all of them dressed as though preparing to spar with one another. Gwaine kept up his usual antagonizing banter and Elyan reacted defensively as he usually did. Percival said little, as was his habit. In short, it seemed as though they were going about their usual activities, rather than scouting out the best way to discreetly examine arrows from each of their target kingdoms.

"We should just go and ask to see them. Inspection or some rot," Gwaine said impatiently. Elyan rolled his eyes.

"_That_ won't make them wonder what we're doing," Elyan mocked facetiously.

"What? Have you got a better idea?" Gwaine asked.

"Yes," Leon said, looking at Gwaine significantly. "We need to split up. Each of us needs to take a kingdom and _discreetly_ look over their weaponry. As Arthur said, invite them to train with us. We meet back here in half an hour. I'll take Caerleon."

"I've got Amata," Gwaine said, eager to follow his instincts.

"I'll take Essetir," Elyan offered.

"And I'll take Meredor," Percival said. Leon nodded to each of his brothers-in-arms.

"Good luck."

* * *

Mordred found himself pacing Gaius' chambers restlessly after everyone else had gone. The other knights were likely in the thick of their assignment and Merlin and Mithian had left not long after the knights.

"You pace just as badly as Merlin does, do you know?" Gaius asked as he stood over his worktable in his heavy leather apron.

"I'm not surprised. He's a person who needs to be active and so am I. I think it has to do with our magic."

"I believe that is true," Gaius chuckled in agreement.

"You mean like it keeps you jittery?" Daegal asked curiously, also noting the warlock-knight's restlessness.

"You could say that," Mordred answered. "I know I often have an indefinable urge to act. It frequently got me in trouble as a child."

"I'm sure Merlin could say the same thing," Gaius said in amusement.

"Do you really believe that Raulf is in danger?" Mordred asked, causing the physician to meet his eyes for the first time.

"I've had more than one patient die before they could testify to what they knew. I think Arthur and Merlin's concern is valid."

"Then they aren't just keeping me here to keep me out of trouble?" Mordred asked.

"I think not," Gaius said with a chuckle.

"Good," Mordred said with a smile, resuming his pacing as Gaius smiled in amusement and returned to his work.

"Daegal, I've a few tonics for you to deliver," Gaius said a few minutes later, corking the vials he'd just filled and instructing his newest apprentice on where to take them. Daegal was quickly on his way, leaving Mordred and Gaius alone with a sleeping Raulf.

"I've got some rounds to make," the elderly physician said, grabbing his supplies and heading for the door. "I'll be back in a bit."

Mordred nodded and settled himself into a chair beside the patient's cot, looking out the window at the late afternoon sun before wandering around the cluttered room curiously.

"What to do now," Mordred muttered, finding the quiet stillness unnerving after the commotion of the last few days. "Books are good. I'll find a book."

Mordred walked over to the nearest pile of leather-bound volumes and was just reaching for the top of the stack when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He quickly suppressed a shiver from running down his spine and whirled around, his hand outstretched as he began to draw his magic around him protectively. He let out an instinctive, controlled burst of power that gave him a second to react and draw his sword, blocking the long knife that was being thrust towards his heart.

It was a tall man, much taller than Mordred at least, dressed in the leather armor of Amata. His hair was shorn close to his scalp and the various scars scattered across his face added to the menacing aura surrounding him.

Mordred had easily blocked the initial strike, but he quickly found himself on the defensive again as the man dropped the long knife and drew his own sword. The two of them traded blows in the tight space of Gaius' cluttered chambers, knocking various remedies and dishes off the tables and disrupting stacks of books. Raulf slumbered obliviously in his drugged stupor despite the repeated clash of blades meeting and things being scattered about. Mordred called upon his magic to push at the attacker, but had little time to act before the onslaught continued. Regardless, Mordred was able to deflect the brutish man's sword arm twice more with magic, allowing him the time he needed to evade and regroup.

It was quickly becoming obvious to the young warlock-knight that this man was a highly skilled swordsman. Mordred was hampered further by his need to keep himself between the attacker and Raulf, who was surely the real target. Thus Mordred's potential fighting space was constricted even further. Just when the young knight felt he would not be able to hold out much longer, he had an idea that he cursed himself for not thinking of sooner.

"_MERLIN!" _he shouted mentally, finding a second burst of energy to enable him to hold out until Merlin could come to his aid.

* * *

After leaving the physician's chambers, Merlin and Mithian retraced their steps back towards Vidor's chambers. However, this time they had none of the many distractions and delays that they had experienced that morning. Merlin walked at a brisk pace, his staff held at his side in a state of casual readiness. Mithian kept up beside him, the both of their faces etched with determination. The courtiers that they passed seemed eager to watch them go by, taking in every detail to be repeated later to those who had not seen the newly recovered Court Warlock and his wife striding through the castle as though on a mission.

They reached Lord Vidor's chambers and Merlin entered first, noting that Arthur had already sent up someone to take Lord Vidor's body out of the room. All that remained of the gruesome scene was a crimson stain that a young maid was scrubbing diligently.

"I'll just be a bit longer," the young girl said without looking up from her task.

"Don't hurry on our account," Merlin said, and the servant looked around in shock.

"I'm so sorry, Your Excellencies," the girl stammered. "I didn't realize it was you."

"Beth, how long have you known me?" Merlin asked with a grin.

"Five years now, My Lord," Beth replied, dipping her head down.

"Then you should know not to call me anything but _Merlin_. Does my head look fatter now or something?"

Beth looked up with a grin, eyeing Mithian nervously.

"By all means, call him Merlin. I've no objection," the princess said with a smile.

"Beth, did you happen to come across anything odd while you were cleaning?" Merlin asked.

"I haven't, but the Castle Steward was in here when Lord Vidor's body was taken away. He said that there was no sign of Lord Vidor's money chest."

"Really?" Mithian asked, looking significantly at her husband, whose eyebrow had raised not unlike Gaius' at the news.

"I'm sorry I'm not much more help," Beth said.

"You've been plenty helpful," Merlin replied, then made his own quick search of the room. Mithian looked around as well, particularly at the papers at the Lord's desk.

"Merlin?" Mithian said, pulling the warlock from his perusal. Merlin came to the princess' side, glancing down at the leather-bound journal she was looking at.

"What is it?"

"It's his last entry. It's rather vague, but it says,_ "I've made a deal with the devil._"

"Sounds pleasant," Merlin said sarcastically, and Mithian tucked the book under her arm to show to Arthur and Gwen. Merlin took one last look around and closed his eyes, reaching out with his magic to look for any other lingering traces in the room. Unfortunately, there was none; whoever had attacked Vidor had done so without the aid of magic. There was nothing more to be learned from the nobleman's rooms.

"But who is the devil?" Mithian asked soberly as she watched Merlin's awareness return. "And how do we find them?"

"I'm not sure. But perhaps we can make this devil come to us. Let's go make ourselves visible."

Merlin and Mithian had made it down to the courtyard when the warlock froze suddenly and grabbed at his head as Mordred's mental voice echoed deafeningly through his mind.

"What is it?" Mithian asked, eyeing Merlin's sudden alarm with concern.

"Mordred!" the warlock said in explanation, tearing across the courtyard and towards Gaius' rooms at a full sprint. Mithian picked up her skirts and hurried after him as quickly as she was able.

Merlin was faster, though, and burst through the door of Gaius' chambers just as Mordred fell while blocking a particularly brutal blow from the larger man. Without any hesitation, Merlin thrust his staff forward and knocked the leather-clad attacker away from his apprentice with a controlled burst of magic. Mordred lay on the floor, gasping for breath as the large man groaned and stirred where he fell against Gaius' potions shelf. Merlin watched as the man stood and angrily spat blood onto the floor.

"Who are you?" Merlin demanded just as Mithian burst into the room. "Did Lord Vidor hire you?"

"I will tell you nothing," the man growled, then he threw a dagger he'd been concealing by his leg, followed quickly by another one that he'd had tucked in the back of his belt.

"MERLIN!" Mordred shouted, even as Merlin vaporized the first knife with the staff and took control of the second with a gesture from his empty hand, freezing it just feet in front of him before sending it hurtling back towards their assailant. The large man had only a second to realize what had happened before the dagger was embedded in his chest, propelled through his thick leather breastplate by Merlin's magic. He looked down at the protruding dagger in shock before staggering back and dropping dead to the floor. No one had even moved when four knights rushed through the door, their swords drawn.

"Don't tell me we're late to the party," Gwaine quipped, noting the man on the floor as he sheathed his sword. Leon, Percival and Elyan followed suit, more calmly moving into the room, followed by a wide-eyed Daegal.

"You're always late, Gwaine," Merlin teased, walking forward to help Mordred stand as Mithian moved to investigate the attacker.

"Is everyone alright?" Leon asked, eyeing Mordred in concern.

"I'll be fine. It wasn't easy, but I managed to hold him off until Merlin arrived," Mordred explained, massaging the shoulder of his sword arm.

"Why didn't you use magic?" Merlin asked curiously. Mordred's face burned in response.

"I was looking for a book to read. I had my back to the door, so I didn't see him come in and he didn't make a sound. I sensed his presence only a second before he was attacking me."

"You managed well enough with a blade," Gwaine offered encouragingly. Mordred smiled in thanks.

"I've been concentrating more on healing magic recently, and working more on my swordsmanship than my defensive magics," Mordred explained sheepishly.

"I have to say I'm grateful for that," Mithian said. "You saved Merlin's life last night."

"You did?" Merlin asked looking proudly at his student. "No one said anything."

Mordred shrugged. "I was glad to do it."

"Thank you," Merlin said earnestly. "Were you able to use magic at all during the fight?"

Mordred nodded. "I was, though it was such a close-quarter fight that I had little time to concentrate and react except to defend myself with small bursts and with my blade."

"That's how I managed when I first started studying magic," Merlin offered encouragingly.

"I expect you were a bit more experienced than I, even then," Mordred chuckled. Merlin merely shrugged.

"What else can you tell us about your attacker?" Leon asked curiously.

"He was an expert swordsman," Mordred continued. "I think he could have even given Arthur a challenge."

"Sounds like some _specialized skills_ to me. Ten coins says he's from Amata," Gwaine said, holding up a pilfered crossbow bolt that he pulled from his belt.

"I don't think that's a very fair bet," Elyan scoffed. "You found the matching arrow in the Amatan's tent. I'm not going to take any bet from you."

"It's just as well you didn't," Mithian said, pulling a short leather cord from under the man's clothing. Everyone moved closer curiously, seeing the small gold pendant for what it was.

The symbol of Amata's army.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying it!**


	20. Change of Plans

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

* * *

**Change of Plans**

At the sight of the pendant bearing the symbol of Amata's army, Merlin drew closer to Mithian, crouching down beside her to get a better look at the would-be assassin. Gwaine and the other knights crowded around them, trying to place the features of the man on the floor.

"Do you recognise him?" Leon asked the other knights doubtfully.

"Not at all," Gwaine answered, even as Mordred, Percival and Elyan shook their heads.

"I've met nearly all the other visiting knights," Leon continued. "I know I have not seen this man here before."

"Specialized skills indeed," Gwaine muttered to nods all around. The door opening and the sound of a heavy bucket dropping to the floor with a wet crash startled everyone from their perusal of the dead attacker.

"Merlin! _What_ in the name of magic have you been _doing_ in here?" Gaius exclaimed. Merlin's mouth dropped open in indignation.

"How is it that you assume that this was my fault? I don't even live in here anymore," Merlin said, raising his eyebrow in disbelief and smiling at his foster father's resulting indignant expression.

"It wasn't me!" Daegal denied with wide eyes.

"What _did_ happen then?!" Gaius asked, looking around at the toppled books, scattered papers, shattered vials and crushed herbs all over the floor.

"As it turns out, it was a good job Mordred was here," Merlin said by way of answer. "Otherwise we would have to add Raulf there to the list of dead witnesses."

Everyone parted to allow the physician to see what held their interest. Then Gaius finally saw the man on the floor with the knife still protruding from his chest.

"Things just got a bit more complicated," Gaius groaned, imagining the political ramifications of this man's attack and subsequent death. Merlin winced at that.

"Yes, well, he _was _throwing knives at me," the warlock objected. Gaius sighed.

"When _isn't _someone throwing some knife or axe or arrow at you? At least this time your word means something," Gaius reasoned.

"And he has my word as well," Mithian added.

"And mine," Mordred agreed. Gaius looked around at those in the room and sighed again. He was not looking forward to explaining this to the king.

* * *

Arthur was glad to have Guinevere at his side for the rest of the afternoon, even though he couldn't help but occasionally allow his thoughts to wander to what the others were doing. It wasn't in his nature to sit back while others followed the action. Regardless, it had been quite a productive afternoon, thanks to Guinevere's soothing personality.

"I'm sure they are doing just fine," Guinevere murmured, squeezing Arthur's hand as he escorted her to the dining hall. Arthur looked at her in surprise.

"I've been too distracted, haven't I?"

"Only to those who know what to look for," Gwen replied gently.

"I'm sorry. I am being a terrible host. If not for you, these talks probably would have gotten nowhere this afternoon. It would seem that I am not the great king the Druids spoke of," Arthur said only half jokingly.

"Nonsense," Guinevere chided. "You are a great king and you will always will be remembered as such."

Arthur smiled gratefully at his wife as he helped her into her seat. His smile did not last long, however, when Gaius, Merlin and Mithian strode into the room with determined expressions. Arthur remained standing beside Guinevere's chair, waiting for his Court Warlock to approach.

King Rodor smiled at his daughter and Merlin and rose to greet Mithian with a fatherly embrace. Merlin nodded respectfully at his father-in-law and Mithian before continuing towards his king with Gaius beside him. Arthur did not miss the way Sarrum watched Merlin cross the room, nor the way the Amatan ruler's jaw clenched tightly.

"Did something else happen?" Arthur asked as Merlin and Gaius stopped beside him. The physician and warlock exchanged a look, then the physician held out his hand, discretely revealing the amulet from the attacker.

"Isn't that the symbol of Amata? Where did you find it and why do the both of you look so grave?" the king pressed, lowering his voice to a low murmur.

"It _is_ in fact an Amatan crest, and we found it on the man who attacked Mordred this afternoon, in what we believe was an attempt to silence the witness under my care," Gaius answered solemnly.

"What?!" Arthur hissed, fighting the urge to look at Sarrum. "Where is he? I want to speak to him."

"That _could_ be problematic," Merlin admitted, wincing.

"Why is that?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes at his Court Warlock.

"He was attacking Mordred- I told you it was a good job to have him guarding Raulf!" Merlin said defensively, then he explained what had happened just as Mithian came to his side and laced her fingers into his.

"He's dead, then?" Arthur asked, sighing in frustration.

"Unfortunately, yes," Merlin replied.

"He _was _throwing knives," Mithian added.

"So I've heard," Arthur said dryly.

"What do we do about it?" Merlin asked, catching a glimpse of Sarrum out of the corner of his eye as the ruler of the Amata tried to discreetly move closer as he took a seat at the table. Merlin let a subtle wall of magic develop around the five of them, preventing Sarrum from possibly overhearing anything.

"Nothing, yet," Arthur answered, a determined glint entering his eye. "I want you to stay in your chambers tonight. We'll be open about it. The two of you can join us now for supper and mention how glad you'll be to sleep in your own bed. Perhaps someone will pay you a visit and we can catch them in the act."

"Do you think that's wise, Sire?" Gaius asked, looking worriedly at his former ward.

"Like Merlin said earlier. If they want him, they can come and get him. It will be better if they incriminate themselves rather than have us accuse them and give them a chance to make us look like we're setting them up."

Merlin smiled mischievously. "So I'm the lure now? I suppose it's better than being stuffed into a dress. You're not afraid to let me handle the bad guy all by myself?"

"Shut up, Merlin. I'm not afraid of anything. I just know how _helpless_ you are in the heat of battle," Arthur said snarkily. "I'm going to be there, of course."

"You're going to be in our chambers?" Merlin asked, looking at Mithian with a wrinkled nose even as Gwen smothered a giggle with her hand.

"How else do you propose I catch this assassin in the act?" Arthur said. Merlin narrowed his eyes.

"You do _not_ get the bed."

"Shut up, Merlin, I'm going to be hidden of course. And why on earth would I want _your _bed?" Arthur asked indignantly.

"_In any case_, let's sit and enjoy our supper," Gwen interjected before king and warlock could argue any further.

At the queen's instruction, another few place settings were brought out and Gaius, Merlin and Mithian joined the gathering. Mithian felt somewhat self-conscious in her day dress at supper, but Merlin was glad for the excuse to not change clothes just to eat. Their attire also gave the warlock an excuse to drop into the conversation the fact that he was glad to get away from Gaius' watchful eye and back to his own chambers.

"It is good to see you well, Merlin," Rodor said genuinely, and several monarchs nodded in agreement.

"I must say, I _am_ surprised to see you up and about today after such a terrible poisoning," Queen Annis remarked.

"Rapid healing. _That_ is the true benefit of having magic," Prince Gavin said, smiling at Merlin.

"It does have its uses," the warlock agreed cheekily.

"Like juggling eggs perhaps?" Annis asked slyly.

"Among others," Merlin agreed, his smile never wavering.

"I am still hopeful that you'll favor us again with your talents," the Queen of Caerleon teased. Arthur laughed delightedly as his Court Warlock blushed when a few of the others cheerfully added their requests to Annis'. Nearly everyone in the room was smiling and laughing, enjoying the evening. Merlin and Mithian pretended not to notice Sarrum's cool expression, but Guinevere had to squeeze Arthur's leg under the table to keep him from glaring at the other monarch in righteous indignation.

Finally, after much food and conversation, their plates were cleared and the others began to make their way to their rooms to rest and digest the rich food they had just consumed. Arthur looked significantly at Merlin, who acknowledged the king with a barely discernable nod. Then the warlock looked at his wife with a puckish grin.

"Shall we retire for the evening?" He asked, his eyes sparkling as he stood up.

"Indeed we shall," Mithian replied, taking Merlin's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet.

"Goodnight," Arthur said loudly.

"Sleep well," Gwen said, stifling a yawn as she caressed her ever-expanding middle.

Merlin gave a final wave to the room and then escorted Mithian to their chambers. As soon as they opened the door, the warlock raised his eyebrows at the mess still strewn about the room. With a few murmured words and a flick of his wrist, Merlin set the room to straightening itself. Mithian smiled delightedly as things put themselves away and her gowns flew one by one into the wardrobe.

"That is certainly useful," she chuckled.

"Yes, it is. Gaius would scold me for using my magic like this, but I find it very relaxing to allow my magic some form of release, little though it may be."

"It must be exhausting to always exercise such restraint," Mithian murmured sympathetically. Merlin smiled tenderly.

"At times, it was. Especially since I could never really get away with using my magic like this except in my bedroom."

"Not even when you were outside Camelot?" Mithian asked. Merlin smiled and shook his head ruefully.

"I made a horse figure in some smoke in the woods once. Uther brought in the witchfinder because of it and Gaius nearly died for my thoughtlessness. I swore to myself never to do so again unless it was to save someone's life."

"I'm sorry," Mithian murmured. Merlin shrugged.

"It was a long time ago," Merlin said, then grinned mischievously at the room cleaning itself. "You don't know how many times I wanted to do this to Arthur's chambers."

"Hmm, I imagine quite a lot," Mithian mused, though her expression grew curious. "Why doesn't Gaius like you to use your magic in such a manner, if it helps you?"

"He says it makes me lazy and that I should use my gifts for less petty purposes. He says that magic is a gift to be cherished and used wisely, not squandered on fools."

"You're far from lazy," Mithian murmured. "Nor are you foolish."

"I may have initially started doing some of my chores with magic in order to save myself some work," Merlin admitted sheepishly. "In the long run, though, I found that it helped me to keep myself in control to do little things like this while in my room."

"How so?" Mithian asked interestedly. Merlin paused for a moment, thinking. Then his eyes lit up.

"If you're trying to carry a bucket of water, it's easier to keep your feet dry when the water isn't full to the top and sloshing over the sides. That's sort of how my magic is. Letting a little bit out here and there keeps my feet dry, so to speak."

"Then by all means, keep them dry," Mithian said, gesturing to the self-cleaning room. Then the princess looked down at her dress thoughtfully before looking back at Merlin impishly. "Gwaine and Elyan sent Tillie home."

"Yes, they did," Merlin replied, smiling curiously.

"You learned the hard way this morning how difficult it is for a woman to remove her dress on her own," Mithian continued, gesturing to her clothing. Merlin's eyes sparkled as he caught on to Mithian's intent.

"You've no handmaiden here," Merlin said with mock-solemnity. "And you're still dressed."

"Yes, I am. Tis a pity," she replied mischievously. "I'll need _someone _to help me out of this dress," Mithian replied coyly.

"I think I know just the person," Merlin replied with a grin, taking Mithian's hands and walking backwards as he guided her to their dressing screen. He had just finished loosening the laces of Mithian's dress and had begun to press his lips in a trail across her shoulders when a voice from the other side of the dressing screen silenced Mithian's resultant giggles.

"You do realize that if I were here to kill you, it wouldn't be entirely difficult at the moment, would it?"

Merlin groaned at Arthur's smug tone of voice and let his head drop in frustration against the curve of Mithian's shoulders.

"Tillie was sent home early tonight. I was just helping Mithian prepare for bed. Why are you here so soon?"

"Apparently saving you from complete distraction," Arthur said dryly. "Are you going to come out of there or am I going to have to keep talking to this screen?"

"Give me a minute," Merlin said, kissing Mithian's shoulder one last time before helping her into her nightdress and dressing gown and then quickly pulling on his own nightclothes. As they came around the screen, Merlin scowled at the king sitting at their table with his feet propped up, a smug grin on his face.

"You could have knocked," Merlin groused. Arthur's grin just grew wider.

"Revenge is really quite sweet," the king chuckled, then waved his hand in a vague gesture of encouragement. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Merlin grumbled and Mithian smiled at her husband's choice of murmured words. Then Merlin said a few words of the old tongue and set the bed to rights after it had been torn asunder by their would-be assassin.

"Very handy trick," Arthur said appreciatively.

"_Trick?!_" Merlin asked in frustration. "Why does everyone relegate my magic to the realm of mere tricks? In any case, aren't you supposed to be silent? Like you're not even here?"

"Of course, "Arthur allowed. "Don't mind me, I'll just be lurking over there in the shadows."

"_That's_ a lovely thought," Merlin muttered sarcastically. Mithian chuckled and slipped into her side of the bed, picking up a brush on the bedside table and stroking it through her hair. Merlin busied himself with straightening a few more things, blatantly ignoring the dark corner that Arthur had retreated to. "You're sure no one saw you coming here?" Merlin asked finally as he sent a pair of boots walking themselves back to the cupboard as he tidied his books and papers.

"That really is _quite_ fascinating," Arthur replied, ignoring his Court Warlock's question as the king watched things straighten themselves.

"Who's distracted now?" Merlin said smugly, smiling as his irritation lessened.

"You're not the only one who knows how to use the servant's passages, Merlin," Arthur finally answered.

"I'm amazed you even know where they go," Merlin teased.

"I grew up in this castle," Arthur replied. "Of course I know the servant's passages. How do you think I hid from my tutors as a boy?"

"Why does that not surprise me?" Merlin said, rolling his eyes.

"Come to bed, Merlin," Mithian entreated with a grin. "We're supposed to be pretending that Arthur _isn't _hiding behind the curtains."

Merlin chuckled, but conceded to his wife's request, allowing the candles to extinguish and the straightening things to come to a rest as he settled into the bed on his side and pulled Mithian into his chest. Taking a deep breath, he buried his face in her hair and pressed one last, lingering kiss to the nape of her neck. Arthur groaned in the darkness, and Merlin raised his head to glare in the king's direction.

"This was _your_ idea, and if I recall, you are _supposed _to be pretending you _aren't _standing where you're standing."

Arthur said nothing and Merlin allowed his head to flop back onto his pillow even as Mithian's body shook with suppressed laughter.

"I'm glad someone is enjoying this," Merlin chuckled, tightening his grip around Mithian's waist in a gentle hug.

"The both of you are rather irrepressible, did you know?" Mithian asked in the darkness. "It's what makes you both such good leaders."

Merlin smiled in the darkness, though he was sure he could feel Arthur rolling his eyes in silence.

"Goodnight, Mithian," Merlin said, kissing her shoulder again as she wove her fingers into his and squeezed.

"Goodnight, Merlin," she whispered, and the room fell silent for a few moments.

"No one wants to wish me goodnight?"

"Goodnight, specter of the king who really isn't there," Merlin drawled, smiling as Mithian clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter.

"You dollophead," Arthur chuckled.

"My word!" Merlin said, allowing his suddenly weary body to relax with the knowledge that Arthur would raise the alarm if anything happened.

* * *

Arthur watched in amusement as Merlin drifted off to sleep curled around Mithian as though he didn't have a care in the world. For a long time, Arthur had put Merlin's utter and often foolish bravery down to simple-mindedness; but now he knew that it was Merlin's magic that made him so fearless. The king could not imagine wielding such immense power that he was unafraid of the thought of an assassin actively trying to kill him. Arthur supposed that was why he himself was so worried. He had to be concerned enough for the both of them, since Merlin didn't seem even a bit anxious, despite the fact that the warlock had only the night before been fighting for his life as poison coursed through his veins.

"Dollophead," Arthur repeated quietly, allowing a fond grin to quirk one side of his mouth upwards as he leaned against the wall and prepared to watch and wait.

The moon had nearly crossed the expanse of the darkened starlit sky when the soft snick of the door being unlatched pulled Arthur from a light doze that he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. Luckily, he was still concealed behind the curtain in the darkness, and he pushed the slight gap between the panels of fabric open a bit farther.

Arthur was pleased to see Merlin's eyes snap open, though the warlock did not move a muscle. Merlin's back was to the main portion of the room, where Arthur could now make out the shadowy silhouette of a robust man stepping slowly and silently towards the bed. Arthur tensed, waiting to see what the intruder would do, and how Merlin would handle it.

The man stepped closer to the bed, stopping right beside it. Arthur held his breath, wondering why Merlin hadn't moved yet. Then the king saw a brief flash of silver as the intruder raised a long knife over the warlock. Arthur's heart began to race at the sight and he nearly burst out of his hiding place to defend the pair on the bed when he realized that the man was frozen where he stood, the knife still poised over Merlin ominously. Then Arthur's eyes burned as the candles suddenly flared to life seemingly of their own accord, illuminating the room as Merlin casually rolled onto his back and raised an eyebrow at his would-be-attacker.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Merlin asked Sarrum coolly, even as Mithian moved out from the covers and grabbed her crossbow from beneath the bed. The princess leveled her weapon at the ruler of Amata as Arthur revealed himself with sword drawn.

"I'd like to know that myself," Arthur said, and Sarrum's eyes widened even further, though the rest of him appeared to be completely frozen. Arthur's brow furrowed as he looked at the door when it opened with a bang, revealing Mordred, Gwaine and Percival.

"I called for Mordred," Merlin explained reassuringly, seeing the alarmed expression on Arthur's face. Then the warlock turned to address Mordred. "Thank you."

"Are Elyan and Leon still with Guinevere? Is she safe?" Arthur asked anxiously, though he relaxed visibly as soon as Gwaine nodded.

"The queen is perfectly safe, though she's a bit upset that she had to be under guard. Said something about living all on her own for years and knowing how to take care of herself. But Elyan reminded her that his nephew was at risk and that seemed to settle her frustration."

"Good," Arthur said, then turned back to Sarrum and narrowed his eyes. "I suspected it was your man who was trying to kill my Court Warlock, but I have to admit, I'm surprised to see _you _come here yourself. Why are you doing this?"

Sarrum remained silent, even as Merlin reached up and pulled the knife from his frozen grasp, handing it across the bed to Mithian pommel first. Then the warlock slowly moved across Mithian's side and stood up, never taking his eyes off the man whose angry glare followed his every move.

"Why?" Merlin asked quietly, his eyes flashing in frustration. Sarrum gritted his teeth and glared at Merlin, his expression hardening in indignation.

"Magic is unnatural. You are no better than an animal," was Sarrum's only reply.

Arthur gritted his teeth and looked at Gwaine, Percival and Mordred. "Make sure he doesn't have any other weapons then take him to his rooms. He is to be under guard and secured until otherwise noted."

Merlin released Sarrum from the restraining magic as Gwaine and Percival moved forward, the tall knight searching the Amatan ruler as Gwaine stood by with his sword at the ready. Mordred stayed close to the door and glanced back into the hallway in case Sarrum had back-up. After a moment's searching, Percival confiscated two more knives and a vial of some sort of liquid from Sarrum, stepping back to place them on the table. Then Arthur waited wordlessly as the knights escorted a mulish Sarrum from Merlin's chambers.

"Hopefully, that will put an end to this ridiculousness," Arthur groused as the door shut behind them, though Merlin sighed in frustration.

"Unfortunately, it's usually when I think along those lines that something else happens."

"Let us hope for the best, then," Mithian said, giving Merlin's arm a squeeze in support. Arthur nodded his agreement and made for the door.

"I'm going to bed. Don't let yourselves get too distracted now that I'm leaving," the king teased, chuckling as he shut the door behind him. After a moment, Merlin turned to Mithian and raised an eyebrow. The princess smiled indulgently, then giggled when Merlin swept her into his arms and tossed her onto the bed.

* * *

The following morning brought another set of problems. Word had spread quickly that Arthur had confined Sarrum to his chambers under armed guard. The king had hardly finished his breakfast before he began to receive messages from the other monarchs requesting an explanation. Steeling himself for the inevitable, Arthur gathered his papers and held an arm out for Guinevere.

"You'll do fine," Guinevere reassured him. Arthur smiled at her confidence and kissed her.

"Thank you. I'll do well as long as you're with me," the king murmured. Gwen smiled and the two of them headed for the council chambers. Merlin and Mithian joined them just as they reached the back entrance, and Arthur looked at Merlin questioningly before he gripped the door pull. The warlock nodded in wordless confirmation and Arthur straightened his posture as he pulled the door open and joined the already gathered monarchs.

"What is going on, Arthur?" King Lot asked suspiciously before they could get to their seats.

"What is it that concerns you?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Why is Sarrum being held prisoner?" Odin asked before Lot could reply.

"He was found trying to kill my Court Warlock," Arthur answered, gesturing towards Merlin as the four of them joined the gathering at the table.

"And who has accused Sarrum thus?" Alined asked, looking at Merlin with obvious distrust.

"Merlin had no need to accuse him, I witnessed it myself," Arthur explained, raising eyebrows all around the room.

"I trust _King_ Arthur's witness," Rodor said, emphasizing Arthur's title to further validate his words. Queen Annis nodded while looking shrewdly at Alined.

"And I as well," she said, prompting Princess Elena to add her agreement, as well as that of her father.

"Just what do you plan on doing to Sarrum?" Alined asked, causing everyone to look at Arthur solemnly.

"I plan to give him a trial of his peers. He is a king, and so I believe that his fate should be a joint decision amongst us."

"But you have already assured us all of his guilt," Alined pressed. "How can we assume this trial will be fair?"

"It will be fair, on my honor," Arthur answered, silencing any further protests. The rest of the day moved fairly uneventfully, though Sarrum's detainment and as-yet-uncertain future had given Lot and Alined excuse to argue the treaty details further. Arthur was glad to be finished with the day's talks and allowed to retreat to the solitude of his chambers for a private supper with Guinevere.

Merlin, though, had found himself under Alined's scrutiny several times over the course of the day, and something about Alined's self-satisfied grin after they had broken for dinner had left Merlin unsettled.

"Something on your mind?" Mithian asked as they left the hall and made their way to their own chambers for supper.

"Alined was looking far too pleased for my comfort," Merlin said softly, reaching out with his senses to ensure no one was listening.

"Do you think he was working with Sarrum?" Mithian asked softly, grasping Merlin's hand in hers.

"I'm not sure. Though I think that Lord Vidor's missing money chest is more telling than Alined's smug expression. It's more likely that the late nobleman had had enough of me and decided to do something about it."

"You've said that Alined has tried to disrupt peace talks before. Perhaps he's merely pleased by the delay."

"We can only hope," Merlin sighed, weary from the last few days.

"Why don't we go and see your mother? We've not seen her since yesterday morning, and I'm sure you'd like to see her when you're _not_ dressed as a woman."

"That sounds nice. It doesn't matter if she's in Camelot if I don't actually spend time with her."

Mithian chuckled, pulling Merlin away from the corridor leading to their chambers and turning towards Hunith's. The warlock smiled at Mithian as she wove their fingers together.

"How is it that you already know what I need better than I do myself?" Merlin mused, a fond smile quirking his lips into a lopsided slant.

"Of course I know better. I'm your wife," Mithian said impishly.

"Oh, I thought maybe it might have been something to do with love and affection. I guess I was mistaken," Merlin chuckled dryly.

"Heavens, no, where did you ever get that idea?" Mithian said, raising an eyebrow and struggling to keep her smile hidden.

"I'm not entirely, sure," Merlin drawled, stopping in the middle of the hallway and turning to Mithian before slowly backing her into the wall. "Perhaps from here," he murmured before he pressed his lips to hers. Mithian thought about their exposed location for just a split second before returning the kiss with equal fervor.

A nearby door closing rather loudly caused them to break apart and take a step back. Just as they did, a blushing serving girl carried a basket of laundry past them while avoiding their gaze, her hair scarf doing a poor job of hiding her reddened face. Merlin chuckled and looked at Mithian sheepishly.

"You're causing all sorts of mischief today," Mithian teased. "Let's go see Hunith."

Merlin did not protest when Mithian pulled him further down the hall and knocked gently on Hunith's door. Nearly two minutes passed before Merlin knocked more firmly and reached out with his magic to open the door.

"Mother?" He called out tentatively, his eyes sweeping the all too familiar and worrisome sight of a room that had been thoroughly searched.

"Hunith?" Mithian said, her eyes tracing over the disturbed room.

"Mother?!" Merlin called again, more urgently than before. "Where is she?" He asked in a nervous voice as Mithian checked behind the changing screen.

"Not here," Mithian replied sadly, worry furrowing her brow. Merlin walked to the table beside the bed and his heart leapt at the sight of a scrap of parchment tucked under an empty goblet. The nondescript handwriting of the hastily scrawled note gave very little away; Gwaine's crossbow bolt had revealed more. Mithian came up behind Merlin and pulled the parchment from her husband's shaking hand, reading the message aloud in a strangled whisper.

_"Finder's keepers. Come and find your mother if you dare..." _

* * *

Before Merlin fully realized what he was doing, he found himself barrelling through the door to Arthur and Gwen's chambers. Mithian nearly ran into his back when he came to an abrupt halt just as the king and queen looked up in startled alarm.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, though the look on Merlin's face silenced any further protest. The warlock was only just in control and the king wasn't eager to test Merlin's limits.

"What happened?" Gwen asked, seeing Merlin's distress and knowing that very little could elicit such a reaction from the cheerful warlock.

"It's Hunith," Mithian began, even as Merlin finally managed to speak.

"They have her. Someone took her," he said in quick, clipped tones, his anger and frustration keeping him from chattering as he usually did.

"What?! Who?" Arthur demanded. Gwen gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

"I don't know. They left this," Merlin said, holding out his tightly clenched fist and forcing it open, revealing the crumpled parchment within his grip.

"Her chambers had been ransacked, same as ours had been," Mithian explained. Arthur stood slowly and approached Merlin, holding his advisor's gaze as the king carefully took the note. The warlock relinquished his hold on the scrap of parchment, and Arthur looked over it carefully.

"Finder's keepers," he read aloud softly, understanding Merlin's distress better. His own anger flared at the audacity of Hunith's abductors. "We'll find her, Merlin."

"Why are they doing this?!" the warlock finally burst out, the candles flaring as his tenuous hold on his temper slipped.

"I don't know," Arthur murmured, his eyes softening as Merlin shook with the effort to keep his magic and his fury reigned in. Mithian put a hand on Merlin's back in an attempt to soothe her husband while Arthur clapped his advisor on the shoulder in support. The warlock clenched his fists again, closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths. Arthur raised his eyebrows in astonishment as a pressure within the room that he hadn't quite realized was building melted away. Then Merlin's shoulders sagged and he staggered to a seat at the table, nearly trembling in frustration and anger. Gwen rushed to get a goblet of water and Merlin gulped it down thirstily.

"I think the reason is obvious if you just look a little closer," Guinevere said shrewdly, catching everyone's attention. At their questioning looks, the queen continued. "What, or who, I should say, is Camelot and Arthur's greatest defense?"

"Merlin," Mithian said, looking at her husband as the pieces came together.

"And what, do you think, would be the best way to _neutralize _that protection?" Gwen asked softly, looking at Merlin regretfully.

"By hurting the ones I care about," Merlin said, his blue eyes hardening as he turned to look at the others. "If they're trying to distract me, then you are all in danger. Probably you, as king, most of all, Arthur."

"Or Guinevere," Arthur reasoned. "She is just as important as I am, if not more so, as she is carrying Camelot's heir."

"I will not allow anything to happen to either of you," Merlin vowed, standing as his resolve strengthened. "We're going to find my mother and we're going to finish these peace talks. Whoever is trying to stop us is going to regret they ever set foot in Camelot with dishonorable intentions."

Arthur clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder in support, looking him in the eye. "You should get some rest while you can."

"I have to find my mother!" Merlin protested, but Arthur shook his head sadly.

"There's nothing we can do tonight. The sun has set and there is really no other trail to follow. We'll have the knights start searching at first light."

"I can make light," Merlin argued.

"And wear yourself out," Arthur reasoned. "If someone is trying to distract you, it's working. You need to focus. _I _need you to focus. Guinevere's or my life may depend on it. As much as it pains me to admit, you _are _my greatest defense. Don't fall into their trap."

Mithian watched as Merlin's shoulders fell and his face went blank as he tucked his own worries for Hunith away within his mind and focused on the king. Her heart hurt for her husband, who had yet again been forced to put his own grief aside to protect Arthur and Camelot.

"We'll find Hunith," Mithian promised. Merlin turned to look at her with pained eyes. The princess did not have to wonder at Merlin's new distress.

"You are in danger, as well, Mithian," Merlin said sadly. "No one I love is safe right now."

"I'll be fine. It's you and the king and queen I'm worried about."

Merlin closed his eyes and exhaled a long, exhausted breath.

"Go get some rest," Arthur ordered, his tone allowing no protest. Merlin stood and allowed Mithian to guide him towards their chambers, his mind swirling with his worries.

Sleep did not come easily for him that night. He lay in the darkness of his and Mithian's chambers, holding her to his chest in a grip so tight that Mithian could hardly breathe. She did not protest, though, as she felt a similar desire to hold him to her and never let go.

* * *

Before the sun had fully risen, Arthur summoned Leon, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Mordred to his chambers. Merlin and Mithian had shown up before dawn; the warlock was eager to do something after spending a restless night worrying for his mother. As they waited for George to convey the king's summons to the knights, Merlin paced anxiously, chewing on his nail as he moved back and forth beside the table.

"Merlin," Arthur scolded, causing the warlock to stop and look questioningly at his king. "You need to calm down. I can't have you acting like this in front of the other royals."

"What do you mean, in front of the others? I've got to find my mother," Merlin protested.

"This is a time to step back and let others do the work," Arthur said cautiously, knowing how Merlin would react.

"You expect me to sit back when my mother has been kidnapped?!" Merlin asked incredulously.

"Yes. I need you to be there in the council room, calm and collected. You can't show any fear; as I said last night, whoever took Hunith did so with the intent to hurt and distract you. You cannot let them win, Merlin. To do so could leave Guinevere or myself vulnerable."

Merlin took a deep breath; he knew that Arthur was right, but he was unwilling to give in immediately.

"I'm the most capable of finding my mother before something happens to her," Merlin argued.

"Though that will take you away from Arthur's side," Guinevere said sadly. "I'm worried about Hunith, too, but I think Arthur needs your protection right now."

"They're right, Merlin," Mithian added. "I'll go with the knights. I can help them find Hunith."

Merlin looked between the three of them for nearly a full minute, then sighed and sat down in defeat.

"I'm so sorry that protecting me and Guinevere and our child is such a burden," Arthur drawled facetiously, knowing that Merlin needed to be provoked.

"You know it isn't," Merlin said, not in the mood to rise to the bait, but appreciating the taunt for what it was.

"Of course I know that, you just needed to be reminded is all," Arthur replied with a cheeky grin. Merlin rolled his eyes just as the door opened and Gwaine entered, his fellow knights following behind.

"You're just as bad as Merlin, you know? Did neither of you ever learn to knock?" Arthur complained, though Gwaine looked back at the door unconcernedly before shrugging at Arthur.

"You knew we were coming, so why waste time with knocking?"

It was Arthur's turn to roll his eyes as the other knights chuckled.

"What is it you require of us?" Leon asked, showing much more respect and decorum than Gwaine ever could. Arthur met each of their gazes with a solemn expression before gesturing to Merlin.

"Merlin's mother has been abducted," he began without preamble. The knight's eyes widened, and their shoulders tensed.

"Hunith?!" Gwaine asked; his face reddening in his anger. He had taken quite a liking to the no-nonsense peasant woman, and not just because she held within her a veritable treasure trove of stories with which to embarrass Merlin. She had, in the weeks since she had come to Camelot permanently, become a mother figure for all of them.

"Yes," Arthur confirmed. "It is my hope that we can keep her disappearance quiet. I want the five of you to search through the citadel and the town for any sign of her-"

"And me as well," Mithian interjected. Arthur gave her a brief nod in acknowledgement and continued.

"We have reason to believe that this was done in an attempt to pull Merlin away from protecting me and Guinevere."

"He spent all of yesterday away from you," Gwaine interjected. "The night before that, he was entirely unconscious. You were more vulnerable then, yet no one attacked you. Who's to say that this isn't another attack on Merlin in direct retaliation for Sarrum's capture?"

"Believe me, I had the same thought. Until I saw this," Arthur answered, pulling out the now smoothed slip of parchment Merlin had found and passing it to his knights for them to examine.

"Finder's keepers?" Leon read aloud, his brow furrowing as he passed the note to Elyan.

"What's this?!" Gwaine asked, leaning over Elyan's shoulder to read the note before pulling it from his fellow knight's hands.

"Someone wants Merlin out of the way, then," Leon concluded.

"That's what we thought," Merlin agreed.

"But Sarrum has been caught; he's confined to his chambers. Why would he want to get Merlin out of the way?" Elyan asked as Gwaine passed the note to Percival.

"I believe that Sarrum has an accomplice," Arthur answered regretfully.

"Vidor, probably, but he's dead," Percival said, though Mithian shook her head.

"He might have hired Sarrum initially, but there's more to this than simply a hatred of magic. As my father said, this is an attempt to ruin these peace talks, and whoever was working with the Amatans in targeting Merlin must have realized the difficulty of their task."

"Exactly," Arthur agreed. "And as you said, Sarrum has been caught. I believe the accomplice has changed their plan from killing Merlin, to getting him out of the way. "

"Meaning their target has changed," Gwen interjected, looking significantly at Arthur.

"What makes you think it's not another of Sarrum's men who's behind Hunith's disappearance?" Gwaine asked, all traces of humor gone. "Perhaps Sarrum had a back-up plan."

"Sarrum and his men are ruthless and they showed that they were willing to kill whoever and whenever. I don't think this is the work of any Amatan. If it were, I believe we would have found Hunith's body, rather than this note encouraging Merlin to search for her."

Merlin grimaced at Arthur's theory. It had been hard enough finding the note; he could not imagine finding his mother dead. Mithian reached out and squeezed his shoulder in support.

"Where do we look first?" Gwaine asked, eager to get started.

"The catacombs?" Elyan suggested. "They probably wouldn't want to take her far, if they are still here, coordinating another attack."

"That's a good place to start," Arthur agreed. "You and Leon will begin there. Gwaine? You and Percival will start with the guards at the gates. Find out if anyone left with a cart or with someone who was concealed. Mordred-"

"Whoever took my mother did it because as you said, they know that killing me would be harder than getting me out of the way," Merlin interrupted. "The guards at the gates are likely to have our next clue. The abductors wouldn't have risked keeping my mother in the castle or town. It's too close- too easy for me to find her and stay near to Arthur. I think they would have taken her to a place far enough away that it will keep me from interfering with their plan and dangerous enough that I wouldn't hesitate to leave Arthur defenseless in Camelot in order to rescue her."

"Where is that?" Guinevere asked anxiously.

"What is the most dangerous, bandit-infested, avoided travel route you can think of?" Merlin asked wryly.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings," Arthur, Leon, Gwaine and Percival immediately answered.

"Exactly," Merlin replied.

"Very well, then. Leon? You and Elyan will remain here. I still think we should at least give the catacombs a cursory search. Gwaine? You, Percival and Mordred will ask at the gates, then head towards the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

"I'll go with them," Mithian said, causing Merlin's brow to crumple.

"You should stay here," he began, but one raised eyebrow from Mithian silenced him on the subject.

"Hunith is now just as much _my_ mother as _yours_," she said softly, coaxing a grateful smile from Merlin. "I'll be fine."

"Excellent," Arthur said, looking at each of them in turn. "You have your assignments. Good luck."

* * *

A/N: Uh oh, the baddies have really stepped in it now... Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, they really make my day!


	21. Checkmate

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm so very pleased to read them all. :)**

* * *

**Checkmate**

It had taken Merlin some time that morning to settle himself enough to attend the peace talks with Arthur and Guinevere. Mithian had a unique view into how close to the edge Merlin was. On the outside, her husband had seemed calm and collected; the very picture of a First Advisor and Court Warlock. On the inside, however, the warlock was seething. Mithian could feel an echo of how his magic surged and roiled within him, leaving him hard-pressed to contain any outward sign. It had made the princess reluctant to leave his side, but she knew that Merlin would not rest easy until his mother was safe. So it was that Mithian found herself riding towards the most dreaded area within Camelot with only three knights to accompany her.

The guards at the western gate did have information for them, as Merlin had suggested. Just before dusk the previous evening, three men had left with a small cart that they had declared to be grain for their village. The wheel tracks from their cart went a full mile outside the city; it was there though, that the cart was found abandoned in the hedges on the side of the road.

"Look for horse prints," Gwaine instructed, and the four of them fanned out, looking for the trail.

"Over here," Mordred called a few moments later. The others rushed to his side, eager for any clue.

"What do you think, three, four horses?" Gwaine asked pacing around the area as he studied the prints.

"Three," Mithian mused, kneeling down and brushing her fingers over a deeper print. "This one is deeper than the others. I'd bet that it was carrying two riders."

"One of the abductors and an unconscious Hunith?" Mordred asked.

"Exactly," Mithian confirmed.

"They must have been in a hurry," Percival offered.

"Of course they were," Gwaine chuckled. "With Merlin possibly right behind them? I'd hurry too."

"Where do they lead, though?" Percival asked, eying the grouping of horse prints.

"Right where Merlin said they would," Mordred answered, his eyes tracing westward.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings," Mithian said grimly.

"We'd best get moving, then. We've got a lovely woman to rescue," Gwaine said, grinning in satisfaction. The four of them rushed back to their own horses, eager to find Hunith.

"I've lost the trail," Mordred called out nearly thirty minutes later, pulling his horse to a stop to allow the others to catch up. Gwaine jumped down off of his horse and swiftly began scanning the area. Percival, Mithian and Mordred soon followed.

"They must be using magic to clear their prints," Mithian said in frustration, just as the sound of brush being crushed under foot caused them all to scan the forest for signs of danger.

"What was that?" Gwaine asked, and the four of them froze again as more leaves and twigs crunched loudly.

"Not an animal," Percival murmured. Then Mithian gasped at the figure stumbling out of the trees in front of them. The petite woman froze in place, her eyes rapidly moving over each of them. Her posture tensed, preparing for an attack; standing tall and eying them warily was a bedraggled Hunith. In her hands was a sizable stick that she brandished like a club at the sight of them.

"Hunith!" Mithian called, slowly stepping forward and holding up her hands to show her lack of aggression.

"Who are you?!" Hunith demanded, tightening her grip on her makeshift club and looking hurriedly at each of them in turn. Mithian lifted her eyebrows in surprise and traded a concerned look with the knights.

"Hunith," the princess began soothingly, smiling disarmingly at the anxious woman. "I'm Mithian. I am Merlin's wife, remember? This is Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival and Sir Mordred, all of them knights of Camelot."

"That is who you all look like, but how do I know for sure?" Hunith asked, still holding her club at the ready.

"What do you mean?" Gwaine asked, his eyebrows narrowing in confusion.

"I mean you may not be who you say you are."

"I assure you, we are telling the truth," Percival said softly, raising his huge hands placatingly. Hunith just shook her head, her brows crinkling.

"I was taken last night by three men who looked exactly like Sir Elyan, Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine. They had their faces and their voices, yet they spoke of their magic and their plans to kill the king. I _know_ those men haven't any magic and they would _never _willingly or knowingly plot to kill their king. So I ask you again, how do I know for sure that you are who you claim to be?" Hunith asked, her eyes shining with fiery determination and defiance.

"How about we tell you something about Merlin that only his friends would know?" Gwaine suggested, smiling at Hunith's agreeing nod. "Alright, I can tell you that Merlin is my first and best friend. We once had to polish the whole army's boots as a punishment for sticking Arthur with my tavern bill."

"That's not specific enough," Hunith replied. "Anyone could have told you that- Sir Gwaine told that story rather proudly at my son's wedding feast."

Gwaine nodded his head in sheepish agreement, then his eyes lit up. "Oh! He has a certain red neckerchief that he wears more than the others. He once told me that it was because you stitched his name on the edge using your own hair."

Hunith gave a small grin of acceptance and turned to the others with suspicion still creasing her brow, unwilling to accept the three of them with just Gwaine's story.

"Merlin told me that when he was very young, you used to sing a special song about the stars and the moon to him to make him go to sleep, and he wouldn't settle without it," Percival answered, though Gwaine looked at the large knight curiously.

"Why would he tell you that?"

"I was on watch during a quest a while back. Merlin couldn't sleep, so he joined me and told me about how his mother sang to him on nights like that one," Percival defended himself.

"Well my mother was a horrible woman. Second only to my terrible sister," Gwaine complained. "Never heard a lullaby pass her cold, dry lips."

Percival raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"I am your son's apprentice," Mordred began, rolling his eyes as his fellow knights chuckled. Then Mordred grew sober, his expression almost sad. "He told me that his father died in his arms, and that one of his most cherished possessions is a wooden dragon carved by his father."

Hunith smiled sadly, tears welling in her eyes. She knew that Merlin rarely ever spoke of Balinor, and only then to his closest friends. Finally, she turned to Mithian, who bit her lip in concentration, then brightened as she thought of something _no one_ else would possibly know.

"Merlin has a strangely shaped scar on his left hip; he's very ticklish there and he jumps quite spectacularly when you touch it. The story behind it is rather funny itself, especially as it makes Merlin blush," the princess said, smiling mischievously even as Gwaine, Percival and Mordred's eyebrows rose in shock. Hunith, however, laughed and then sighed in grateful relief as she finally allowed her club to drop.

The peasant woman sagged in exhaustion, her legs nearly giving out after her prolonged ordeal. Mithian stepped forward, hugging Merlin's mother before hastily offering her own water skin. As Hunith drank deeply from it, Gwaine and Mordred scanned the surrounding woods.

"You said three men took you? Should we be on the lookout for them?" Mordred asked. Hunith's face paled.

"Two of them left some hours ago, I believe they were headed back to Camelot."

"Just two of them? What of the third?" Gwaine asked, still eying the surrounding trees cautiously.

"He won't be a problem," Hunith answered emotionlessly.

"How can you be so sure?" Mordred asked doubtfully, scanning the surrounding trees himself. Hunith shook her head, her eyes darkening.

"He's dead."

"Dead?!" Percival exclaimed in surprise.

"What happened?" Mithian asked gently. Hunith shuddered and clutched her arms around her middle, but began to explain.

"After the others left, the one who stayed behind to guard me began to taunt me. He said he would enjoy killing me and that it would surely upset Merlin."

"It would upset more than Merlin," Gwaine growled, and Hunith smiled gratefully at the knight.

"How did you get away?" Mordred asked, and the peasant woman's brow creased with remembered indignation.

"He made the mistake of assuming I was defenseless. He left me alone for a few minutes while he went searching for firewood. My hands were bound in front of me so I used my teeth to loosen the bonds. The man came back then, and began to set up the fire. He turned his back to me as he tried to light the kindling, so I moved as quietly as I could and picked up the biggest of the branches that he had brought back and hit him over the head with it."

"You're sure he was actually dead? Not just unconscious?" Mordred asked in concern, eyeing their surroundings once more.

"He's dead," Hunith said firmly, but did not elaborate. "I don't think they believed I would be any trouble. None of them thought twice about leaving only one man behind. But he soon learned that I was not incapable of defending myself, given the right opportunity," Hunith explained, her eyes glinting fiercely as she wiped away the tears before they could fall.

Gwaine smiled, shaking his head in wonderment. "It's really no surprise that Merlin is the way he is, now is it?"

Hunith chuckled in weary relief.

"I'm so glad you're safe," Mithian said, pulling Hunith into another hug.

"As am I, but my son and Arthur and Gwen are in danger. Surely those men have returned to Camelot by now, and they must have some plan."

"If we hurry, we can make it in time for the midday break," Percival offered.

"What are the chances that the two men headed for Camelot are working alone?" Mithian asked ruefully.

"I'd say there's little chance it's just the two of them," Mordred answered.

"Sounds like there could be some terrible odds in this endeavor. My favorite. We'd best get back to Camelot then, before we miss all the fun," Gwaine said with a roguish grin.

"Speak for yourself," Mordred grumbled. "With everything that's happened in the last few days, I think I'd be glad to translate goblin texts for a week if it meant some peace and quiet."

"Be careful what you wish for," Percival chuckled, offering a hand to help Hunith and Mithian onto the princess' horse before climbing into his own saddle and looking at Mordred mirthfully. "You might just get it."

Mordred rolled his eyes, but said nothing further as the rest of them mounted their horses and kicked the beasts into motion, making for Camelot as fast as they could.

* * *

There was very little worse, Merlin decided, than being forced to sit through a diplomatic discussion when his mother was in danger. The warlock thought ruefully that the freedom that came with being Camelot's _secret _protector had certainly had its advantages over the diplomacy that went with official recognition.

The morning had passed inexorably slowly as the committee of rulers argued over the same points again and again. The warlock had never felt the desire to freeze time and simply disappear as strongly as he did when Alined revisited the trade routes that connected his kingdom to both Camelot and Olaf's lands for the fifth time that morning. Arthur occasionally gave Merlin a subtle kick beneath the table; a clear warning that he needed to stop fidgeting or tracking the sun's progress across the windows.

Mithian's absence had not gone unnoticed either. Rodor had looked at Merlin in askance when Mithian hadn't come along to the meeting. Merlin cursed inwardly at his lack of preparation for such a situation and then stumbled awkwardly over the excuse that Mithian had felt unwell that morning. Much to Merlin's mortification, however, his impromptu excuse for his wife's absence had prompted more than one face-reddening comment about babes in the couple's future.

Unfortunately, the well-meant teasing had only added to Merlin's worry. Yet again, his stomach lurched with nerves and he inwardly winced for not doing more to protect Mithian while she was traveling into such dangerous territory without him. Just as he was cursing himself for the third time, he was abruptly reminded of what he was _supposed_ to be doing by a sudden outburst from the debating monarchs.

"But that route is always impassible during the winter!" King Olaf protested, when Alined proposed moving the route over a mountain pass.

"Only for a few weeks. A month and a half at most," Alined argued dryly, as though he really couldn't be bothered with the proceedings that he himself kept prolonging.

"When material products are being transported, that's all well and good. But my people depend upon the grains we receive in trade for our sea-caught fish!"

Alined merely shrugged and studied his fingernails as though they had just been discussing the last year's tourney's winners.

"We cannot do anything that will risk the food supply to an entire kingdom," Rodor chimed in.

"Exactly," Queen Annis agreed, giving Alined a stern look, though it went unnoticed. "We cannot willfully and knowingly cause a kingdom and its people to suffer in order to indulge our own pride and vanity."

"You would know about pride and vanity, now, wouldn't you?" Alined drawled.

"What are you saying?" Annis asked curtly, her expression belying her frustration and irritation.

"Well..." Alined began, but Merlin cut him off, the warlock's already tested patience wearing ever thinner.

"This is exactly the sort of antagonism that we need to avoid. This council has a duty and a responsibility to those who are depending on us to keep them provided for and safe! We are _supposed_ to be working together, strengthening our ties and helping one another, not instigating new and petty quarrels!"

"Here, here!" Prince Gavin called out. Princess Elena smiled and nodded her approval. Merlin could feel his face and neck warming at so thoroughly scolding a room full of monarchs. He could not deny though, that after years of standing against the wall and biting his tongue, speaking his mind in such a manner was incredibly satisfying. The warlock took a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to calm himself, willing the redness from his face.

"You are right, of course," Alined said, nodding to Merlin with a simpering smile. "I wouldn't _dream_ of preventing this council from reaching its noble goals."

Arthur watched the exchange in silence, hoping to gain some insight into what could be prompting Alined's frequent and trivial delays. But the other monarch smiled blandly, giving nothing away.

"Let us take a short break," Arthur offered, his eyes scanning the room for any disagreement.

"Some refreshment would be lovely," Lord Godwyn offered. Guinevere smiled her agreement, nodding to her handmaiden, who then hurried to inform the kitchen. Once seated in the dining hall, Merlin gripped the arms of his chair in order to keep himself from bounding out of the room, leaving the dreadfully repetitive meeting behind to seek out his mother.

"_Easy, Merlin_," Arthur murmured, watching the unlit candles begin to smolder spontaneously. The warlock took another few deep breaths and closed his eyes to gather himself. He focused on the mundane sounds around him; the servants' footsteps, Queen Annis' murmured conversation with Lord Godwyn; Princess Elena's delicate laughter at something Prince Gavin had said.

"My Lord," a voice to Merlin's right pulled him out of his reverie. He sat back hurriedly and looked to see Beth with a plate of food and a friendly smile.

"Thank you," the warlock murmured, allowing the serving girl to place the plate of food in front of him. Elfa came right behind her, filling his and Arthur's goblets with wine from her pitcher.

Merlin stared down at the food for a moment, his stomach suddenly turning at the sight of it. Instead, he reached for his glass to take a drink, stopping himself at the last moment to smell the contents before drinking it.

"Something the matter?" Arthur murmured, noting Merlin's uncharacteristic reluctance to eat.

"I don't know," Merlin replied, glancing around the room once more at the unconcerned monarchs.

"You need to relax," Arthur offered, his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

"Easy for you to say," Merlin muttered.

"No, actually, it isn't. I just have more experience putting on a steady front."

"I doubt that. My very existence used to hinge on my ability to put on a _steady front_, Arthur," Merlin protested, raising his eyebrow at the king.

"You're right," Arthur allowed.

"What was that?" Merlin asked in surprise.

"Don't push it, Merlin. And stop worrying so much, we _will _find her."

"I'm trying. Something just seems... Off, somehow," Merlin muttered agitatedly, consciously making an effort to stop bouncing his knee.

"You're just worried about your mother, it's only natural. Try and keep from lighting anything on fire, hmm?" Arthur teased, trying to ease the tension that was becoming more evident the longer Merlin sat still.

"Everything will be fine," Gwen assured softly, smiling. Merlin nodded wordlessly, and allowed the subject to drop for the time being.

The meal passed quietly, the tension of the morning keeping conversation at a minimum. Merlin wasn't able to eat more than a few bites, and only then just to keep up appearances. For the most part, he pushed things around on his plate, smiling sadly as he thought of how his mother would scold him for doing such a thing.

"Shall we adjourn to the great hall?" Arthur suggested as plates were emptied and tables were cleared. The king led the procession with Gwen on his arm, and Merlin and the other monarchs following behind. Merlin couldn't help but let his mind wander as they moved through the corridors.

"Merlin, have you considered juggling for us?" Annis called out as they took their seats at the Round Table, pulling Merlin from his thoughts.

"I hadn't planned on a display this afternoon," Merlin offered apologetically with a nervous chuckle.

"You're keeping us in suspense," Annis teased, her eyes glinting in amusement as Merlin squirmed nervously.

"Perhaps-"

Merlin's reply was cut off when the warning bells began to clamor. Instantly, Arthur, Gwen and Merlin were on their feet.

"Guards! Secure the hall," Arthur commanded, moving to the windows to observe the city. "George, go find Sir Leon, find out why the bells have been rung."

As the servant scurried out, Merlin and Gwen stepped up beside Arthur. There was no obvious threat; the city was calm, except for the various servants scuttling across the courtyard to take shelter amidst the clanging sound of the warning bells.

"What is going on, Arthur?" Lot growled, eyeing each of the others with distrust.

"I am not sure," Arthur said, leading Merlin and Gwen back to their places at the table. "But I believe that we will be safe if we just remain calm."

A moment later, a pounding on the bolted doors echoed through the hall, and a guard called out, "It's Sir Leon, Sire!"

"Allow him in," Arthur answered as he helped Guinevere into her seat.

"Sire," Leon said, giving a bow to Arthur as he and Elyan came to a stop in front of the king.

"What is going on, Sir Leon?" Arthur asked.

"Sarrum has escaped, the guards at his door have been killed. We believe he may be headed this way."

As soon as Leon had said the words, an arrow whistled down and embedded itself into the heart of the dragon emblazoned on the center of the table's surface.

"MERLIN!" Arthur yelled, pulling Guinevere with him as he dove under the table as even more arrows rained down upon them. Odin cried out when an arrow grazed his cheek, prompting the other monarchs to take cover under the table as well.

"_Gescildan_!" Merlin shouted, holding his hands up over his head as he scanned the upper balconies.

"Leon! Elyan! Take Guinevere and get her to safety!" Arthur commanded.

"Arthur, no!"

"You _must_, Guinevere," Arthur said, his earnest tone cutting off any further protest. With a nod and a worried look, the queen crawled to the other side of the table to Leon and Elyan. The three of them scrambled for a side door under the cover of Merlin's shield.

"Clear the room!" Merlin said as arrows continued to disintegrate against his shield. The other monarchs wasted no time crawling out from under under the massive oak table though they turned back as soon as they tried the doors.

"There's Amatan soldiers waiting in the corridor!" King Rodor exclaimed as he and King Olaf replaced the bar across the door.

"Back under the table, then!" Merlin called. Queen Annis and Princess Elena led the way, with Lot and Alined muttering the indignities of being forced under the furniture. Arthur and Prince Gavin joined Merlin in scanning the balconies.

"How can we help?" The prince asked.

"I'll drop the shield; you try and find out where they are firing from," Merlin suggested, allowing his arms and the shield to drop, still scanning the shadows above them. Without delay, three more arrows came from the balcony, and a shadow flitted through the darkness.

"There!" Gavin cried, running towards the stairway that led to the balcony.

"Merlin!" Arthur called out, pointing to another observation balcony on the opposite side of the room. The warlock reached a hand out, catching the arrow this time, rather than shielding against it, and sent it towards a glimmer of movement in the shadows. They were rewarded with a grunt and a heavy thud as the attacker was taken down.

Another grunt and a startled cry echoed as a second bowman fell from the balcony above. Gavin's form appeared, looking down towards the man he had just defeated.

"That's two!" The prince called.

"Merlin! To your right!" King Rodor called from beneath the table, and Merlin whirled around, catching sight of Sarrum on the upper balcony.

"_Gescildan_!" Merlin shouted, catching the small throwing knife and sending it back to the balcony. Sarrum had already moved, however, headed towards Prince Gavin.

"Gavin!" Merlin called, warning the high priest. The prince of Nemeth disappeared into the shadows, and the sounds of a struggle were heard. Arthur and Merlin both raced towards the stairwell, headed up to the balcony. They were both taken by surprise though, when a large spear burrowed into the door just as they reached out to open it.

Arthur wasted no further time, nearly yanking the door off its hinges in his haste to enter. Sarrum had the prince pinned on the ground, a gash bleeding at Gavin's brow.

"No!" Arthur yelled, just as Sarrum was preparing to plunge a long knife through Gavin's heart. Arthur grabbed the spear from the door and threw it as Merlin pushed the Amatan ruler off of the prince with magic. Sarrum hit the door on the other end of the balcony, the spear pinning him to it.

"Guinevere," Arthur murmured. Without another word, he stood and bolted down the stairs, drawing his sword as he went.

"Gavin! Stay here, and protect the others!" Merlin shouted, then without waiting for a response, he was on Arthur's heels. Merlin's boots slid as they came to the bolted main entrance where Arthur was struggling with the massive locking bar.

"Arthur!" he warned, then as the king moved out of the way, Merlin grabbed the heavy bar with magic, flinging it to the side and pushing the doors open.

There in the hall, a half-dozen men in Amatan garb were being engaged by three knights of Camelot, including Leon and Elyan, and two knights of Nemeth. Knights from Caerleon, Gawant, and Essetir were just arriving. Arthur and Merlin pushed their way through the fray towards the knights that were supposed to be protecting the queen.

"Leon! Elyan! Where is Guinevere?!" Arthur asked as soon as the last Amatan was subdued.

"The queen, Sire?" Leon asked in confused alarm.

"What about Gwen?" Elyan asked, his voice tinged with panic.

"I sent her with you two to get her out of danger!"

"Sire, we've just come out of the catacombs when the warning bells rang," Leon said, his eyes widening in fear.

"ARTHUR!"

King and warlock froze as Guinevere's voice echoed, not from within the castle, but from outside. The two of them ran to the end of the corridor and looked out the windows onto the private gardens. _Leon _and _Elyan _each had the queen by an arm and were leading her towards the stables.

"GUINEVERE!" Arthur shouted, causing her to look fearfully over her shoulder for just a moment before the three of them disappeared around a hedge. "What is going on?!" the king growled, pushing off the window sill and rushing towards the gardens, his warlock-advisor and knights at his heels.

"Arthur, what are you planning?" Merlin panted as they reached the final staircase leading to the royal gardens.

"I haven't decided yet," Arthur gritted out, his temper simmering below the surface.

"You should let me handle things," Merlin said, and nearly ran right into Arthur when the king stopped abruptly and turned furious eyes on his Court Warlock.

"Guinevere is my _wife,"_ Arthur bit out. Merlin, however, was unfazed.

"And Hunith is my _mother_," Merlin said softly. "Besides, there is magic at work here; how else would those two look just like Leon and Elyan?!"

"Perhaps Merlin is right, Arthur," Leon offered.

"Fine, but we're wasting time," Arthur said, grabbing Merlin's shoulder and shoving him to the front, nodding in satisfaction when the warlock took off running.

The gardens were nearly deserted, save for a few gossiping ladies of the court who were clustered in a knot at the gate leading to the stables.

"Out of the way!" Merlin said, shouldering his way through them with little apology, Arthur, Leon and Elyan following closely behind as they left the scandalized ladies in their wake.

Emerging from the gardens, the four of them looked around wildly, seeing nothing amiss. No one was in sight except for Arthur's stable boy.

"Tyr!" Merlin called breathlessly, causing the portly young man to turn away from the horse he was grooming with surprise.

"Yes, My Lords?" Tyr asked humbly, bowing his head in respect. Merlin rolled his eyes and swallowed his protest at the formal title Tyr had used.

"Have you seen the queen?" Arthur interjected before Merlin could say anything further.

"Yes," Tyr said, frowning in confusion.

"Where did she go?" Merlin demanded urgently, startling Tyr with his abrupt manner.

"It's strange, Sire, but the queen was with Sirs Leon and Elyan," Tyr trailed off, pointing confusedly at the two knights in question. "They just left, said they were going to go for a ride but the queen didn't look pleased to be riding. I almost said as much, but I am naught but a humble servant, and it is not in my duties to question-"

"WHERE DID THEY GO?!" Arthur thundered, causing Tyr's face to go pale as he stammered and stumbled over his words.

"I- I don't know! They said that they were touring the countryside! All I know is they rode that way!" Tyr pointed in the direction of the western gates.

Merlin and Arthur wasted no further time; Arthur yanked the reigns of the horse from Tyr's hands and leapt onto the horse's back, kicking it into a gallop towards the western gates.

"He's going to get himself killed," Merlin muttered, running to another horse awaiting its turn in the grooming stall and used magic to jump onto the horse's bare back as Leon and Elyan ran into the stable to get mounts of their own. The three of them thundered out of the horse paddock, leaving a terribly confused stable boy behind.

* * *

Mithian sighed with relief when the white towers of the citadel came into view; they had ridden hard and their horses would likely not last much longer. Hunith clutched at her cloak behind her in an effort to keep her seat behind the princess.

"We've almost made it!" Mordred called out triumphantly. Percival and Gwaine smiled in reply, though everyone's face fell when they realized that warning bells were suddenly ringing, loud and insistent, followed momentarily by the rattling rumble of the gears straining against the heavy load of the portcullis as it began to descend. They each kicked their horses' flanks, pushing even harder over the the last fifty yards to slip into the city just before the massive gate settled into place.

The five of them slipped off their panting, exhausted horses, allowing the guards at the gate to take them as they started running towards the castle. The warning bells finally fell silent as they made it into the deserted marketplace of the lower town. Gwaine came to a stop, turning to Mordred.

"What's happening?" he asked the warlock-knight, his brow furrowing in anxious anticipation.

"How should I know?" Mordred protested, though Gwaine rolled his eyes.

"Do you have magic or not?! Ask Merlin in your warlocky way!"

"_Warlocky way?!_" Mordred protested indignantly.

"Just do it!" Mithian interjected, and Mordred huffed and closed his eyes.

_"Merlin,"_ he called out mentally, not expecting to get such a quick response.

"_Mordred! The queen has been abducted by two men. They have magic and they are headed towards the western gates!"_

_"We came in the western gate," _Mordred replied. "_We are in the market of the lower town."_

"_My mother?" _Merlin asked, his mental voice anxious.

"_We have her_," Mordred confirmed.

_"Good," _Merlin's relief was palpable, even through the mental connection.

"_How can we help?"_

"_Just stay where you are. We can trap them between us."_

"_We will be waiting."_

Mordred's eyes flew open, searching up the dusty street as the sounds of horses became audible. "Merlin said to stay here; the queen has been abducted and they were heading towards the western gate. We'll help Merlin to trap them."

"Damn useful, this magic business. Don't know why we didn't use it before," Gwaine muttered, then chuckled irreverently as he drew his sword. The other knights followed suit while Mithian readied her bow, placing themselves in a line across the road. Hunith, unarmed as she was, retreated to an empty vegetable stall, urging the woman huddled there to take shelter.

Seconds later, three horses rounded the distant corner and scattered a wandering flock of chickens as the riders tore down the dusty street.

"Perfect," Gwaine muttered as those on horseback pulled in their mounts when they saw the party of knights and the princess standing in the path.

"Leon! Elyan!" Mithian called in surprise. 'Leon' tightened his grip on the queen, who was now unconscious in front of him.

"What's going on?!" Percival growled, unable to comprehend why the queen's brother and the king's most senior knight would be trying to abduct Guinevere. Mordred's mind was whirling, Merlin's warning coming to the front of his mind.

_They have magic._

Mordred thought back over his lessons with Merlin, willing something useful to come to mind. He nearly crowed in triumph when a hazy memory of goat ears came to mind. Without hesitation, Mordred raised a hand and spoke the words of restoration that Merlin had taught him.

"_Ábareþ þá sóþes ansíene!"_

The features of both men began to shift and morph under the influence of Mordred's spell. The man disguised as Leon growled and wheeled his horse around, intent on seeking another exit as their disguises melted completely away. Before they could go any further, however, Arthur and Merlin came around the corner, boxing them in.

"Release her!" Arthur commanded, his voice steely and unyielding.

"Trickler!" Merlin exclaimed, surprised to see the man he had assumed was no longer working for King Alined. Yet there he was, holding Gwen, and looking anxiously around at the nearby alleyways, seeking any possible escape. Much to Trickler's disappointment, though, the real Leon and Elyan emerged from either alley, blocking any escape.

"Trickler?" Arthur asked, his eyes glinting fiercely. "Alined still up to his old ways, then?"

"Careful, Arthur," Merlin said, sliding slowly off his hastily borrowed horse and stepping to the front. "There is nothing to gain in this," he said, raising his voice and addressing the queen's abductors. Merlin tensed as the second sorcerer raised his hands defensively. Everyone froze.

"Just let the queen go," Merlin said more firmly.

"Oh, alright, but only because you asked so nicely," Trickler simpered, shoving Gwen towards the ground.

"Guinevere!" Arthur shouted, leaping from his horse just as Merlin raised his hands and froze time around the queen, preventing her from falling to the hard-packed dirt. Trickler wasted no time leaping from his horse and blowing flames all around them. His accomplice began magically hurling things; tools, rocks, buckets, rotten fruit, anything he could, at the encroaching knights.

Arthur rushed forward to catch Guinevere, but was forced to stop ten feet away from her suspended form as a wall of fire erupted between them.

"Guinevere! Merlin, do something!" the king exclaimed, watching in fearful disbelief as the wooden homes and stalls around them began to ignite.

"I've got her!" Percival yelled, running towards the queen through a gap in the barrier of flames. Arthur circled around the blaze towards Percival's route as Trickler took advantage of Merlin's preoccupation and continued to spout fire around them. Finally, the warlock gratefully released Gwen from his control and into Percival's arms.

Merlin looked hurriedly around him, trying to ascertain the best defence. The wooden structures of the lower town were quickly igniting. Mithian was beating at the flames with her water-soaked cloak, trying to douse what she could. Merlin froze momentarily when he saw the figure fighting the flames beside his wife; his mother was there, alive and relatively unhurt, tossing a bucket of water over the flames. He was pulled from his reverie when a flaming log was hurled towards him. Merlin flung his hand up, halting the log just a foot from his face and allowing it to fly back towards the second sorcerer. Gwaine, Leon and Elyan took advantage of the distraction and ran to help some families escape their engulfed homes.

"_Swefnu_!" Mordred shouted, dropping the sorcerer to the ground. Merlin nodded to his apprentice and then scanned up and down the market square, planning his next move.

Percival and Arthur were taking care of Gwen, trying to shield her from the flames and extinguish what they could while they looked her over for injuries. Mithian and Hunith were now leading the evacuation of the citizens; the knights were now engaged in subduing a few more knights of Amata that had just joined the fight.

Gritting his teeth in determination, Merlin looked wildly around for Trickler. Alined's troublemaker was nowhere in sight, though Merlin realized it wouldn't be hard to track down a man who seemed mad in his quest to set everything alight.

_"Ácwenceþ!" _Merlin called out as he ran down the street, dousing flames as he went. As he rounded a corner, he was caught up by a group of townspeople who were fleeing in Trickler's wake. Finally breaking free of the crowd, Merlin put on a burst of speed and tore around the next corner, only to throw himself to the side in order to avoid an engulfed barrel rolling his way at an unnatural speed.

"Trickler!" he growled in frustration, dousing more flames as he stood to his feet.

"Don't you just _love_ my display?" Trickler giggled, holding his arms out and striking a pose as though he were performing at a royal feast.

"Stop this," Merlin commanded, his voice firm as he glared at the mad sorcerer.

"But it's so much _fun!"_

Trickler held up his finger as though he were shushing a babe; then he blew a torrent of flames towards Merlin.

"_Gescildan_!"

Trickler cowered down as the flames hit Merlin's shield and intensified before dissipating.

"Why?! Why must you ruin my best plans?" Trickler whined. Merlin half-expected him to stomp his foot and pout as a small child might. "Do you _know_ what _he _did to me when I failed the last time? Why must you do this to me?"

"Only a fool blames others for their own shortcomings, Trickler. It is my duty to protect Arthur and this kingdom. I do so because I dream of a better world. One of peace and prosperity. This is no way to see that dream realized."

Trickler sneered at Merlin, and in the blink of an eye, blew a another great torrent of flames at the warlock. Merlin immediately raised a shield; Trickler's attack was nothing compared to a dragon's breath. This time, though, Merlin allowed his shield to absorb the flame, gathering it in a ball in his hand.

"As I told Morgana recently, Trickler. I've been controlling fire since I was a small boy. You will not win this way."

Merlin had a feeling that, as much as Trickler was relying on fire, it was his area of greatest skill. Other than love potions, that is. Trickler growled in frustration and began setting the wooden buildings and various carts around him on fire, causing the occupants to come streaming out and into the street.

_"Ácwenceþ!" _Merlin bellowed again and again, raising his hands to either side, extinguishing the flames that had rapidly grown beyond a bucket brigade's control. The townspeople's screams fell silent; they watched in awe as Merlin repeatedly saved their homes and livelihoods.

As the last flame was extinguished, he turned to Trickler and thrust a hand in the glaring man's direction. The sorcerer was blasted back off his feet, landing ten feet away in a cart of apples. Though stunned, Trickler sat up and laughed.

"Temper, temper!" he scolded, wagging his finger in Merlin's direction.

"MERLIN!"

The warlock spun at Mithian's scream; he saw her running down the street towards him a split second before he saw and blocked the jagged, makeshift spear headed straight for him. Trickler's accomplice, who had apparently woken up, had thrown it towards him with magic. Merlin's expression hardened as he turned the spear back on it's thrower and ensured that the sorcerer would not be rejoining the fight again.

"Look out!" Mithian shouted, pulling her crossbow to her shoulder and firing in one swift movement. Merlin was surprised when Trickler suddenly grunted and let his arm drop, releasing his short blade as he looked down in shock at the crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest.

"Princess?!" Trickler asked, looking up at Mithian's fierce expression in shock and betrayal.

"It may be Merlin's duty to protect Arthur and Camelot," Mithian said, lowering her bow. "But protecting _him _is _mine_."

Merlin let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding as Trickler dropped to the ground. Then the warlock turned towards his wife and stepped towards her, only to be waylaid by the awestruck townspeople.

"Merlin!" Mithian called, though the tumult of voices made it difficult for Merlin to hear her. Men, women and children crowded around, calling their thanks and pressing in to try and clap him on the back and ruffle his hair or congratulate him in some fashion.

"Mithian!" Merlin called out, smiling distractedly here or there and waving at those he recognized. Finally, he broke through the gathered throng and stopped a step in front of his wife.

"What were you thinking? Running after a sorcerer on your own?" Merlin asked in frustration.

"I could ask you the same thing," Mithian tossed back.

"Well, I have magic," Merlin argued.

"I don't, and yet I still managed to save your life," Mithian replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief, knowing that she had won the argument. Merlin smiled and inched a little closer, completely oblivious to the watching townspeople.

"Would you just kiss her already?!" a young girl's voice called out. Merlin laughed self-consciously, his eyes glancing around them before settling back on Mithian. The princess raised her eyebrow in challenge, a grin teasing her lips.

"Well?" Mithian asked, and Merlin gave in, taking her in his arms and pressing his lips to hers. Cheers erupted around them, only abating when a throat cleared and the crowd immediately hushed.

"Don't let us interrupt, you," Arthur said, smiling as he supported Guinevere beside him.

"I've never let you interrupt me," Merlin said teasingly, taking Mithian's hand and coming to the Queen's side. "Are you alright, Gwen?"

"I'm just fine, thanks to all of you," she answered, smoothing her dress over her abdomen. Merlin nodded gratefully, then saw the quiet form standing just behind them.

"Mother," he called, rushing around his king and queen to gather Hunith in his arms for a hug.

"I'm fine, just fine," Hunith soothed, patting his back and smiling when he pulled away to take in her appearance.

"No bruises," he said, studying her features for any sign of injury as Kanen's abuse came readily to mind.

"Merlin, I'm fine," Hunith laughed, and Merlin grinned at the fond exasperation in her tone.

"Trickler?" Arthur asked, sobering the warlock instantly.

"Dead," the warlock said. "His accomplice as well."

"Is there any doubt that Alined orchestrated this?" Arthur asked, his voice weary. Merlin shook his head, his expression grim.

"He didn't mention Alined specifically by name, but he did say that his failure last time was met with punishment and he seemed to be expecting more of the same."

"I think we can safely assume that Alined is behind these attacks as well," Guinevere interjected. Merlin, Mithian and Arthur nodded grimly in agreement.

"Then let's get back to the castle," Arthur said. "It would seem that we have something _new _to discuss."

* * *

A/N: Whew! Of course I couldn't kill Hunith! She's a favorite of mine. Hopefully that was enough BA!Merlin for you guys. And Trickler? Did I manage to surprise any of you with that? ;)


	22. Albion

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings:** **Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! This is it, the penultimate chapter. I hope you've enjoyed the ride!**

* * *

**Albion**

The visiting monarchs were waiting on the steps for them when Arthur, Merlin and the others returned to the citadel. Several eyebrows rose as they approached, weary and covered in soot. Arthur held Guinevere close to him, supporting her as they made their way across the courtyard. Merlin followed right behind his king, Mithian and Hunith on either side. As they came to a stop at the base of the stairs, King Rodor's eyes widened in alarm.

"Hunith?!" he exclaimed, descending the steps and coming to stand in front of Merlin's mother. "Whatever has happened to you? You look as though you haven't slept and were dragged through the dirt!"

"Father!" Mithian laughed, surprised at her father's candor. She couldn't help but notice Hunith's reddened cheeks and speechless countenance. .

"My apologies, Lady Hunith; I was merely surprised at your appearance; it would appear that you've had a trying ordeal. I cannot apologize for my concern though, so I will ask again, what happened?"

"I'm glad you asked, King Rodor, as it is a very interesting tale," Merlin interjected, saving his thoroughly overwhelmed mother from making any immediate reply. Arthur's eyes quickly scanned over those still on the steps until he found King Alined standing in the back.

"Let's adjourn to the great hall, we can discuss things there," he suggested, hoping to have Alined better contained before the story came out.

Annis nodded and gestured for Arthur and Gwen to lead the way. One by one, the others fell in behind the king and queen, walking in tense but curious silence.

"Shall we?" Merlin asked the two ladies beside him, only to be surprised when King Rodor cleared his throat and stepped in front of them, even as Prince Gavin paused in confusion a short distance away.

"If the Lady Hunith does not object, I would be honored to escort her into the hall," Rodor said rather formally. Merlin's eyes widened in shock, but Mithian squeezed his hand. Gavin smiled and traded a knowing look with Mithian. He motioned his intention to go ahead and Mithian gave a subtle nod as the prince moved to follow the group, leaving the four of them to their own devices.

"I am no Lady," Hunith objected, finally finding her voice as the others walked away. "And I do not belong amongst such a gathering of royalty."

"Nonsense," Rodor replied, taking Hunith's hand and tucking it into his elbow as he moved to follow the rest of the group. "You became a Lady when your son received his title, though I dare say that you were worthy of it long before. And you were made a part of these proceedings when you were so deplorably treated."

Hunith's nervous reply was unheard as Merlin and Mithian fell behind, smiling at the pair ahead of them.

"They're getting on rather well," Mithian chuckled.

"I'm beginning to wonder if my mother won't soon be living in Nemeth," Merlin agreed, utterly dumbfounded. Mithian bit her lip to keep from smiling too widely.

"I've not seen my father so taken with a woman in many years; not since my mother."

"Perhaps some good will come of all this then," Merlin mused.

"I have every faith that this is all going to end well," Mithian said, her voice firm and confident.

Merlin's reply was cut off when they reached the great hall; the others had already taken their seats at the round table. Rodor insisted on having Hunith sit beside him, though the humbly dressed and obviously disheveled woman was clearly uneasy amongst the finery of the monarchs surrounding her. Merlin hid his pleased grin as he helped Mithian into her seat beside him before taking his own. Then he turned his attention to the matter at hand and took in the room around him.

The servants had quite obviously been busy; there was virtually no sign of the fight that had taken place less than an hour before. There were now knights from each kingdom positioned on the balconies in addition to the extra guards at the door. Beyond such measures, only a few small divots in the table top gave any hint that arrows had rained down upon them that afternoon.

Arthur remained standing as the others turned to him expectantly. He steadily met the questioning gaze of all who were gathered.

"I trust no further attempt at harm was made?" he asked, looking at Prince Gavin, remembering Merlin's hurried instruction to the prince.

"There were a few more Amatan soldiers that had to be subdued, but it was nothing we couldn't handle," the prince said confidently.

"Yes, I've not seen such excitement in many years," Annis drawled, drawing a few chuckles from the others.

"I am pleased that you are all safe," Arthur began, meeting their gazes once more. "However, it pains me to say that it appears we've all been betrayed by more than the Amata."

"What?" Annis asked, her eyes scanning the others suspiciously. "How much more of this will we tolerate?!"

"Did we not all swear oaths, on our honor, to a truce at least the duration of the talks?" Lord Bayard asked gruffly.

"This is unacceptable!" Lot growled.

"Are we all to be killed in our beds?" Odin muttered, looking suspiciously around him.

"I'm ever more grateful that my Vivian is safe in my own kingdom," Olaf reasoned, he too looking uneasily at the others.

"Who was this coward?" Lord Godwyn asked, his regal features darkened by anger.

"Yes. Who has dared to darken these peaceful talks with hatred?" Rodor mused. Merlin did not miss the subtle glance that Mithian's father gave Hunith. Silence settled around the table as nearly all of them looked searchingly at the others.

"You've been very quiet Alined," Arthur said, his voice steely as he looked the other king unflinchingly in the eyes.

"Whatever makes you think I would betray this fine consortium?" Alined asked with a patronizing smile.

"I was merely commenting on your lack of opinion, though it is curious how very quick you are to defend yourself."

"One has to be cautious at times like these," Alined deflected.

"And you have yet to give your thoughts on the matter," Princess Elena stated cooly.

"I have nothing to hide," Alined said, sidestepping the issue altogether.

"I believe you once had a man in your employ by the name of Trickler?" Merlin asked, causing Alined's smile to quickly morph into an expression of teeth-gritting fury before his face settled into a neutral expression.

"Yes, I did have a fool by that name, a long time ago. I sacked him shortly after the last time I came to Camelot. It has been many years since I saw him last."

"Many years, you say?" Arthur asked dubiously.

"Yes. At least five years, I would think," Alined replied.

"Then how do you explain the fact that Trickler just tried to abduct my wife in your name?" Arthur asked bluntly, his hands fisting upon the table in an attempt to calm his temper.

"Could you also explain why he just tried to set the whole of the lower town ablaze?" Mithian chimed in, holding up her soot-stained hands.

"Or why he helped to abduct my mother last night?" Merlin added, raising an eyebrow at Alined's angry sneer. Rodor looked at Hunith in shock, his eyes scanning her disheveled form once more.

"You have no proof," Alined said bitterly. Hunith, however, sat tall at his words, ignoring the attention suddenly focused on her; her eyes flashed angrily as she looked at Alined.

"I heard your men; they took me away last night, carrying me away into the forest to distract my son. I heard plenty about their plans to kill King Arthur and my son in order plunge us all into war."

"And yet you still can't blame this on me. I've no control over a man I've dismissed years ago. I don't know what he is thinking or doing. So where is he now?" Alined asked, forcing a nonchalant tone into his voice. "On his way to your dungeons no doubt? Let's bring him here; ask _him_ what he's up to, shall we?"

"That could be difficult, seeing as he's dead," Arthur answered. Alined's face instantly froze, his patronizing expression melting away as he grit his teeth and his face reddened.

"Something the matter?" Merlin asked knowingly.

"No, of course not," Alined simpered, "Trickler was obviously useless on the best of days. His services will not be missed."

"I thought you said that you had sacked him years ago? That you hadn't seen him in a long while?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I haven't, I mean, I did sack him. I haven't seen him. I have no reason to miss his services," Alined backpedaled, only to be interrupted by the doors opening and Sir Leon striding in, accompanied by a group of men; Sarrum's second knight, Alined's nephew, and a small group of knights in Alined's colors. Guinevere froze in her seat, eyeing the newcomers hesitantly. Mithian recognized the change in the queen's composure; Hunith had reacted much the same way upon seeing the princess and the knights.

"Sir Leon," Arthur greeted.

"My Lord," Leon acknowledged. "I've brought the most senior members of both kingdoms, as you required. I apologize for the delay, Sire. We had to find the castle steward in order to release Prince Anwyl from his chambers. He had been locked in. "

"What is the meaning of this?" Alined growled, glaring at his late sister's only son. "_You_ are supposed to be in your chambers."

"And locked in? I do not appreciate him having been imprisoned unjustly in my castle. And he is here because _I_ requested Prince Anwyl's attendance this afternoon, _Alined_," Arthur explained.

"You have no authority over my sister's pathetic son," Alined argued.

"On the contrary," Merlin interjected. "As the host of these peace talks, King Arthur reserves the right to invite any who would benefit this gathering."

The look that Alined gave the warlock bordered on pure hatred. Merlin raised his eyebrow challengingly and Alined leaned back into his chair without any further protest. The expression on the king's face made it quite clear that he was not happy.

"Please explain what is going on," Olaf huffed impatiently.

"Yes, please do," Bayard agreed, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers as he eyed the others cooly.

"Sarrum and his first knight are dead; Amata, unfortunately, has no heir," Arthur began. "I've asked Sir Doran, the most senior surviving knight of the Amata, to sit in Sarrum's place for us."

"And I am here to take your place, uncle," Prince Anwyl said, holding his chin high as he met Alined's glare.

"This is preposterous. Anwyl is little more than a boy," Alined protested. "I will not be replaced. I am still king, and this gathering has no authority over _my _place in _my _kingdom!"

"That remains to be seen," Anwyl said, balling his fists and staring his uncle down. "I know what you have been doing, and I will not be cowed any longer.

"Don't embarrass yourself, boy," Alined spat. His nephew shook his head angrily.

"You are blind! Our people _want _peace; they _need _it. We need to strengthen our kingdom against the Saxon threat. My mother, gods rest her soul, understood that; you are the only one who refuses to see it."

"You traitor! You dare to besmirch my name and my honor before these people?!" Alined ground out, rising from his seat and moving towards Anwyl threateningly. Merlin raised a hand and froze the tantruming king before he could take more than three steps.

"Restrain yourself," Arthur warned. "I will have no more attacks on this council."

Merlin relaxed his hand, allowing Alined to begrudgingly return to his seat. Alined glared at Merlin with a malicious expression until the other royals began talking all at once.

"This is preposterous!"

"What is this farce?!"

"What peace is this?!"

"Is this what magic does?!"

Arthur raised his hands for silence, hoping to get things under control before the peace negotiations were utterly doomed to failure.

"Please, Your Excellencies, all will be explained, though I must ask you for your patience."

"Then it was Alined who orchestrated the attack?" Queen Annis asked rhetorically, looking towards the fuming man with censure in her gaze.

"Is this any way to achieve peace?" Lord Godwin asked, looking at Alined with distaste.

"What wrongs have been done you? What petty revenge do you seek?" Odin asked, looking towards Arthur with a contrite expression for the first time. Alined gritted his teeth together, falling silent and refusing any answer.

"It is no revenge he seeks, nor restitution for any wrong. It is greed which drives my uncle, nothing more."

Merlin tensed, ready to restrain the angry monarch if need be.

"You will shut your mouth, _boy_," Alined growled, refusing to acknowledge his nephew's rank.

"He has said enough already. We can see the truth for ourselves," Olaf said, narrowing his eyes at Alined's subsequent glare.

"You claim honor, yet you have none, by the word of your own nephew," Bayard said.

"You have no proof," Alined argued.

"On the contrary," Mithian said, rising to her feet and gesturing to a blushing Hunith. "We have plenty of proof. The Lady Hunith has already testified to this esteemed gathering that she was forcibly taken last night in order to distract her son, Camelot's Court Warlock and greatest protector. She was cruelly spirited away in order to expose this committee to attack. Her abductors were the very same men who tried to abscond with Queen Guinevere just this afternoon. These men were led by this Trickler whom has been known to serve King Alined. I saw him with my own eyes and killed him myself," Mithian explained as she turned to stare-down Alined.

"Lies," Alined protested, though he faltered when the others seated around the table offered no support. Anwyl stepped forward.

"It is no lie, and you know it. As crown prince and next in line for the throne, I hereby demand that you abdicate your crown and duties to me," Anwyl said, struggling to maintain his composure.

"You have no right to perform this treason," Alined said through gritted teeth.

"I disagree. I have the will of the people behind me, and the support of the knights."

Merlin's eyes flicked to Alined's knights who, up till then, had said nothing. As one, the three of them stepped forward, coming to a stop in front of Prince Anwyl and kneeling down.

"We swear fealty to Prince Anwyl," the one in the center declared. The gathered monarchs sat in stunned silence, which was broken moments later by Alined's angry, animalistic growl.

"Oh my!" Princess Elena exclaimed, startled by Alined's chair toppling backwards as the king stood abruptly. Merlin instinctively moved to shield Arthur and Guinevere, but Alined surprised everyone and lunged at his nephew with a short dagger he pulled from his belt.

Merlin's eyes flared and Alined froze in place; Prince Anwyl quickly stepped back from the blade in his uncle's hand and the knights kneeling before the prince sprang to their feet, drawing their swords. The three of them hesitated, unsure of how to proceed against the frozen king.

"Put it down, Alined," Arthur commanded, standing from his seat and taking a few steps towards them. "Everyone just needs to calm down."

"I would, but it would seem that I cannot," Alined said, looking balefully at Merlin's outstretched hand.

"I will release you, Alined, in order to drop the knife," Merlin said grimly, his voice strained.

"Fine," the disgraced king growled.

Anwyl's knights moved in closer in order to take hold of their former king and Merlin slowly released him. Alined, though, took the opportunity to slash the closest knight across the cheek. Seeing the blood run down the knight's face finally broke the shocked state that had enveloped the others. Leon rushed forward to help the knight staunch the blood flow from his wound as the other nobles and royals stood and backed away from the table once more. King Rodor and Prince Gavin took up a protective stance in front of Hunith and Elena while guards flanked the rest of the group.

_"Ástyntede!" _Merlin shouted in frustration, and Alined was frozen in place once more, his arm poised to make a second slash. With a flick of his wrist, Merlin sent the dagger clattering to the floor then held the monarch frozen for a moment, trying to determine the best course of action. As his eyes fell upon the heavy cord tying the drapes back, the warlock commanded, _"Áweraþ!" _and then looked towards Alined. The cord jumped into motion, binding the angry monarch in place.

"Release me this instant!" Alined screamed, spittle flying from his lips as he blustered angrily.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that," Merlin answered coolly, provoking an angry growl from Alined's clenched teeth.

"What are we to do now?" Lord Bayard asked, eying the tantruming king with distaste. Mithian and Guinevere came to stand beside their husbands supportively; the King of Camelot exchanged a look with his First Advisor, frustrated by the situation.

"I believe Alined should be confined to the dungeons," Annis suggested.

"I agree," Rodor said.

"And I," Olaf added. Alined gritted his teeth and glared at the others as one by one, they all agreed on Annis' suggestion.

"You're all a bunch of fools," Alined growled as two guards took hold of his arms and led him from the room. A tense silence followed, in which no one was eager to make the first move.

"Please, let's all take a seat," Arthur invited. "Prince Anwyl will take Alined's place."

"And what of Amata?" King Lot asked, causing everyone to look at the lone Amatan knight as though he had just entered.

"As you know, Amata has no heir; neither are our customs of succession like yours. I will take Sarrum's place, both on this council and as high ruler of my people. I vow to make my decisions here with an open mind."

"And how do we know you're not going to slip a little poison into someone's goblet?" Olaf asked suspiciously.

"I have no interest in preventing peace. My beliefs are much different than my predecessor's," Sir Doran replied.

"What does that mean? Where is your proof?" Odin asked, his face reddening in frustration.

"This is my proof," Doran said, reaching into his pocket before holding out his hand and concentrating on it. A moment later, the knight released a gasping breath as sweat began to gather at his brow; then it was the others turn to gasp as they watched the tiny seed that lay in Doran's palm sprout small green leaves on a slender stalk.

"You have magic?!" Prince Gavin asked excitedly. Doran merely nodded.

"I have been hiding from Sarrum for many years, waiting for the time that the Druids oft speak of; the golden age of Albion. The Amata have long been a mercenary people; Sarrum had many long-held beliefs against magic. I am not very powerful, but it is my hope that I may guide my people towards a brighter future. That is why my first act as the leader of the Amata is to swear allegiance to Camelot, to Emrys, and to this council."

Doran surprised everyone when he knelt down in front of Arthur.

"I acknowledge you, Arthur Pendragon, as The Once and Future King; high king of all Albion," Doran finished, placing his clenched fist over his heart in a sign of acceptance before he turned to Merlin. "I acknowledge you, Lord Merlin, as Emrys of the Druids, leader of the magical community. I will gladly lead my people under your guidance."

"I thank you, Sir Doran," Arthur said in an overwhelmed voice; Merlin nodded, unable to speak. "But I did not expect such a declaration; I did not call for this historic gathering to assert myself as ruler over all of Albion."

"And yet," King Rodor interrupted, moving to stand beside Sir Doran, "It would appear to be the case. The Druids have foreseen this time. I believe that _this _is your destiny."

"No man should have such power," Arthur argued.

"You won't be alone," Merlin replied, knowing that Rodor spoke the truth. The warlock had accepted their conjoined fate many years before. Mithian squeezed his hand in support.

"No, you won't be," Guinevere added, smiling encouragingly at Arthur.

"Why me?" Arthur asked, overwhelmed.

"You are the Once and Future King," Merlin said proudly.

"You are a natural choice for such a leader," Mithian agreed.

"How so? I've less time as king than every other ruler in this council," Arthur said, looking around the room in disbelief.

"That is true," King Rodor acknowledged. "And yet it was you who brought us all together here with the belief that peace was possible. Therefore, I acknowledge you, Arthur Pendragon, as the Once and Future King, high king of all Albion. And you, Lord Merlin, as Emrys of the Druids, leader of those with magic. I too, will rule my people under your leadership."

"As will I," Prince Gavin agreed.

"I, too, acknowledge you, Arthur Pendragon, as The Once and Future King, high king of all Albion, and Lord Merlin as Emrys," Queen Annis said, coming to stand beside Doran, Rodor and Gavin. One by one, the others came and repeated the same oath, until Olaf was the last one left.

"When I came here, Arthur, I had little hope for this council. I thought that it would be a waste of time, and the cowardly poisoning of your advisor did little to dissuade me of the opinion. But I must admit that my expectations have been too low. You are a worthy king, Arthur Pendragon. You have shown as much in the last few days. And I am not ashamed to acknowledge you as high king of Albion. As for you, Lord Merlin, magic has long been something of which I was not very trusting. I can honestly say that I was shocked and disappointed to see magic welcomed in Camelot once more."

Merlin flinched at Olaf's blunt candor, then looked down at his boots to hide his expression. Mithian clenched her teeth in irritation; she could see her husband's disappointment. Though as she opened her mouth to argue in Merlin's defence, Olaf continued.

"However, you have shown true honor and loyalty this day. You even protected me and others who have been vocal in our beliefs _against _magic. You are not an evil man; I must concede then, that magic is not either. Therefore, I acknowledge you as Emrys of the Druids, rightful leader and guide to those with magic."

Merlin unashamedly allowed the tears to stream down his cheeks unchecked, nodding in wordless acceptance of Olaf's pledge. Arthur struggled to speak beyond the lump in his throat, looking at Guinevere and taking strength from her brilliant smile.

"This is an honor I was not expecting," he began, looking solemnly at each of the other rulers in the room. "I will endeavor to live up to the hopes and expectations of this council. To lead us all into an era of prosperity and peace, so that we might be strong in the face of those who would see us fall. I accept your fealty and your appointment. I accept my role as the Once and Future King; may we all stand for peace.

Merlin smiled as the mantle of leadership settled onto Arthur's shoulders. There had been many times over the years in which the warlock had doubted that their conjoined destiny would come to pass. But now, Merlin could see that Arthur was ready. Still a clotpole at heart, but ready nonetheless. The warlock broke the awed silence that had descended over the room, bringing his hands together in applause. Mithian and Guinevere were quick to join him, followed soon after by the rest of those in the hall.

"Long live the king!" Merlin cried out, which was immediately repeated by all.

"This calls for a feast!" King Rodor suggested as the room fell silent once more.

"A feast it is!" Guinevere agreed.

"Only if Merlin agrees to juggle for us," Queen Annis teased, to much laughter.

"I'm sure that there will be much more entertaining things," Merlin answered.

"I'm not sure," Mithian teased. "I've heard tell of these juggling skills, but I've never seen them. I think it is about time I witnessed this talent of yours."

Merlin shook his head at Mithian's mischievous look before he finally conceded with a rueful chuckle.

"Then juggle I shall."

* * *

That very evening, a grand ceremony was performed upon the balcony, in view of hundreds of citizens. Geoffrey of Monmouth read out the proclamation of peace which was then signed by each monarch. Merlin stood at the back of the balcony, grasping Mithian's hand in his own, fighting the tears that threatened as he witnessed the prophecies being fulfilled.

As Prince Regent Anwyl placed his signature at the bottom, Arthur took the scroll and stepped forward once more, raising the parchment over his head.

"It is done!" he called out. "Peace between our great kingdoms has been achieved at last!"

The cheers from the gathered crowd was deafening; Merlin hadn't realized that tears were indeed running down his face until Mithian tenderly wiped them away with her delicate handkerchief.

"You've done it," she whispered, smiling as Merlin let loose with a joyous laugh and gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly against his chest.

"_We've_ done it," he murmured into her hair. "You and me, Arthur and Gwen. I had started to doubt this day would ever come. Then your father made his offer, and it seemed that everything just fell into place. Marrying you seems to be the best thing I ever did."

"Of course it was. Tis a pity we didn't think of it sooner," Mithian said loftily, enjoying the rumble of laughter from her husband. Distantly, Merlin was aware of the others on the balcony; Arthur had Guinevere in his arms and the others were all smiling hugely, even Lot and Odin, much to Merlin's amazement.

"Yes, it is," Merlin agreed, hooking his finger under Mithian's chin and prompting her to look up at him. Mithian didn't resist, and Merlin found himself breathless as he stared deeply into her brown eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" Mithian whispered, her lips turning up into a mischievous grin.

"There's a lot of people here," Merlin teased playfully.

"Never stopped you before," Mithian retorted. Merlin's cheeks flushed pink, but all thoughts flew from his head as Mithian stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The sounds of the crowd and the applause of those surrounding them fell away until all Merlin knew was Mithian. When finally she pulled back, Merlin realized that they had attracted quite a bit of attention from the others on the balcony, though he found that he didn't mind. Not even Gwaine's wagging eyebrows could dampen his spirits.

* * *

Though Audrey had complained loud and long at the incredibly short notice, the feast celebrating the peace agreement was impressive. The mood was ebullient; the quiet tension that had been readily apparent in their opening feast was now gone. Smiles were frequent and Merlin had never heard such laughter fill the dining hall. Arthur and Gwen had a certain aura of serenity and calmness surrounding them, which left the warlock feeling more lighthearted than he had been in a long while.

Merlin's brow wrinkled, however, at the sight of a guard entering the hall and making his way towards the head table.

"Sire," the man said, bowing respectfully to his king.

"What is it?" Arthur asked drawing the man straight once more.

"I bring news from the head of the guard. King Alined was found in his cell just moments ago. It appears that he poisoned himself."

Arthur leaned back heavily in his chair, taking a deep breath. Merlin could see that he was trying to control his expression.

"Has he been examined?" Merlin asked, seeing Gaius sitting beside Geoffrey.

"Yes, young Daegal has looked him over," the guard replied.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please inform Prince Anwyl, but otherwise keep it quiet. Let's not let this detract from our victory today."

"Yes, Sire," the guard replied, bowing once more before seeking out the new king of Wessex.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked, seeing Arthur's new solemnity.

"Yes. Just disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

"I had hoped that he would come to accept things."

"We all have our choices," Merlin said, looking pointedly towards where Mordred sat between Gwaine and Percival, dressed in a crisp crimson cloak and firmly loyal to Camelot, despite the dire destiny foretold long ago. Arthur followed his advisor's gaze, and smiled as the young knight surreptitiously gave Gwaine blue hair. The older knight, distracted as he was by a serving girl, didn't notice until the girl walked away with a cheeky grin.

"Mordred!"

"Yes, I suppose we do," Arthur allowed, laughing as Gwaine hurried after Merlin's retreating apprentice. "Thank you, Merlin," he murmured as his good mood returned.

Merlin nodded in reply, grinning at the knights' antics.

"I'm quite looking forward to you juggling for us, Merlin," Mithian said slyly, pulling them back to the celebration at hand; her eyes sparkling as Merlin turned red.

"Me too," Merlin replied facetiously, leaning back in his chair when a servant brought the traditional roast boar's head and placed it on the head table. The warlock had never cared for boars head, especially when the poor beast seemed to be pleading with him not to eat it. Even so, Merlin was not expecting his wife to suddenly stop laughing and groan at the sight of it.

"Oh, my... That's just... Excuse me!" Mithian said, her face fading bone-white before turning an alarming shade of green as she stood from the table and rushed towards the side entrance.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked in confusion on Merlin's other side.

"Ah, I'm not sure..."

"I could give a pretty good guess," Guinevere answered, eyeing the offending boar's head with distaste before she looked down at her swelling midsection knowingly.

"Oh. You mean... Oh. Mithian... Oh!" Merlin stumbled over the words, his cheeks burning and his eyes growing wider as the queen's theory sank in. Arthur looked from Merlin on his right to Guinevere on his left, not following their conclusion until he saw the queen's hand caressing her stomach soothingly.

"OH!" the king exclaimed, turning back to Merlin with wide eyes and a wicked grin.

"You had better go after her," Gwen insisted. "We'll make sure the head is moved elsewhere for when you return."

"Yes, Merlin, I really think you should," Arthur agreed, barely restraining his glee. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the king, but pushed his chair back regardless.

"I'm only doing as I've been told because I think it's the right thing to do," the advisor said impertinently, smiling at Gwen thankfully and ignoring Arthur's half-hearted attempt to control his grin.

"Of course," Arthur said, feigning seriousness as Merlin left the room in search of his wife. The corridor was dark and cool, a welcome change from the festive atmosphere of the feast. Looking in either direction down the empty hallway, Merlin then closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, finding the faint echo of his own magic, which, now that he concentrated on it, seemed a bit stronger than it had been before. It hummed comfortingly at the contact and he turned around the corner to his right to follow the trail. It didn't take long to find Mithian, leaning over a decorative urn in an alcove. At the sound of his footsteps approaching, the princess straightened and hastily turned to face him, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"Merlin," she breathed, relieved at the sight of him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching out to cradle her flushed cheek in his hand.

"I am now. I don't know what came over me. I couldn't, I mean.. it was just the sight of that awful head..." Mithian trailed off at Merlin's expression. "What is it that has you smiling like that when I've just abominably desecrated this piece of pottery?"

"I was just thinking..."

"What?"

"We've been married for nearly two months now..." Merlin replied, raising his eyebrows and waiting for Mithian to follow.

"Oh. _Oh_!"

"Exactly what I said."

"How did you know?" Mithian asked, pressing a hand to her trim midsection in wonder.

"Well, I suppose it was really Gwen that knew," the warlock admitted, smiling sheepishly.

"Don't think this gets you out of juggling," Mithian said mirthfully.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Merlin answered innocently.

"Then please, kind sir, escort me back to the dining hall? I'm suddenly rather hungry."

"As it pleases you, My Lady," Merlin said, bowing dramatically and taking Mithian's hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

The feast didn't seem any less jubilant than when they left; in fact, it seemed to have become a bit more raucous. Gwaine was standing before the head table, his hair now restored, with a basket of apples in his arms. He crunching on one as he waited for Merlin and Mithian to return. The princess smiled gratefully at Gwen as Merlin helped her into her seat and she realized that the boar's head was gone.

"We'll talk later," the queen mouthed, smiling knowingly at Mithian.

"Ah, the entertainment arrives!" Gwaine called out, oblivious to the ladies' exchange, as he was more than a little tipsy. "I missed your little display in Caerleon, Merlin, so make this one a good one!"

"Hear, hear!" Queen Annis called out, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

"Yeah, here," Gwaine repeated, clumsily thrusting the apples in the warlock's direction.

"Thanks, Gwaine, but I actually had something else in mind."

At that, Merlin stepped around the table to the center of the room and gave a deep bow to Princess Mithian, followed by a respectful nod to the other royals surrounding him.

"If it pleases Your Majesties, I would perform a feat of skill few have mastered."

Merlin ignored Arthur's eye roll, and without hiding this time, held his hand out in front of him, his eyes flaring gold as a pair of eggs suddenly appeared in his hand. Several of the ladies in the room gasped in amazement, prompting another eye roll from Arthur, which Merlin ignored yet again. Then he brought his empty hand forward and another wordless flash of gold conjured three eggs. Merlin then spun around in a circle, showing the eggs to all in the room.

At the quiet smattering of applause, Merlin smiled and nodded in acknowledgement before he began tossing the eggs one by one into the air, flinging them higher and higher and from hand to hand until it was difficult to keep track of them all. At last, Merlin caught and held them, one by one, until he had them in cradled once again in his hands. The room burst into applause and cheers and Merlin bowed gratefully before moving back to the head table.

"Just an illusion!" Gwaine crowed, heckling the warlock playfully before he bit into his apple again.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrow at the drunk knight.

"I'll bet those aren't even real eggs!"

"Of course they are," Merlin assured him, his eyes glinting mischievously. "I'll prove it to you."

"How-" Gwaine began, only to be silenced by the eggs that Merlin had suddenly tossed at him with a little push of magic, landing all five on the knight's head. Gwaine looked incredulously at the warlock.

"I did promise not to pour water over you again," Merlin said innocently. "I never said anything about eggs."

Gwaine chuckled as he brushed the smashed egg shells off his shoulders. "I suppose I asked for that didn't I?"

"Yes, you did Gwaine," Mordred said, grinning as he came forward with Leon, Percival and Elyan to collect their drunken comrade. "Promise me you'll teach me that sometime?" the younger warlock asked, eyeing Merlin hopefully.

"Someday, perhaps," Merlin conceded. "Excuse me," he said, patting Mordred on the shoulder and moving towards Mithian's side.

"That was some display," Mithian praised, smiling at Merlin impishly. "I hope our child gains your talents."

Merlin blinked stupidly.

"We're going to have a child."

"I believe so."

"A potentially magical child."

"I believe that is undeniably true as well."

"A baby."

"Yes, Merlin."

"I'm going to be a father!" he exclaimed, his voice unfortunately growing louder in his excitement. Merlin's proclamation cut through the din of conversation around the room, silencing everyone instantly.

"That's one way to announce it," Arthur said dryly, clapping a red-faced Merlin on the shoulder. "Congratulations are in order it seems, for Lord Merlin and Princess Mithian."

The feast took on a new element of merriment then, that lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Mithian's condition was seen as a symbol of hope for all; for the new life she carried was undoubtedly magical. The first such child to be born in three generations who would be celebrated for the innate gifts they were born with, rather than shunned, feared, and ultimately hidden lest they be sent to the pyre.

Though the peace accord had been signed earlier that afternoon, it was only at Merlin's inadvertent announcement that one and all truly realized that the Golden Age was upon them.

Albion was born.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Just the epilogue left now! I really hope this has been satisfying for you. :) Yesterday was my birthday, so I'm going to shamelessly ask you to leave me a line on what your favorite part of this chapter, or even the story as a whole has been. Thank you!


	23. Epilogue

**Another's Favor by ebhg**

**Rating: T**

**Pairings: Merthian/Arwen**

**Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.**

**A/N: Well, here it is, the final chapter. I'm sorry this has taken so long, but I've been having technical difficulties with the site, and I'm hoping that this is actually reaching your alert inboxes and not getting lost in the ether. In any case, I'm tired of sitting on it!**

* * *

**Epilogue**

Ten years had passed since the birth of Albion; Merlin wondered at times at how the time had moved so quickly. So much had happened since Arthur had become the High King. Their families had grown, traditions had been started, and friendships had been strengthened. Especially the many alliances that had been forged and renewed under the peace accord.

Prince Gavin had announced his intentions towards Princess Elena before the celebratory feast had ended. Lord Godwyn and King Rodor had been pleased; both insisted that their advanced years made them unsuitable for the mantle of leadership and that they were prepared to step down from their respective thrones. Therefore, King Gavin and Queen Elena had wed within the first year of the peace treaty, binding Nemeth and Gawant under their leadership. Lord Godwyn had been pleased to see his first grandchild before he joined his beloved wife in Avalon.

Rodor had journeyed to Camelot just after Gavin and Elena's wedding, insisting that Gavin needed time to be king without his father overshadowing him. Mithian had welcomed the visit and delighted in how her father doted on his first young grandson. What surprised the warlock, however, was when the former king of Nemeth pulled Merlin aside after the ladies had gone out for a walk with the baby.

"Merlin," Rodor had said, almost nervously.

"What is it?" he had replied.

"I have a question for you, which I am hoping you would be open to. It is my understanding that your father has been gone for many years and that your mother has been alone since before your birth."

"Yes, that is true," Merlin answered, his brow furrowing in confusion. Rodor nodded, gazing pensively at his boots for a moment before looking directly into Merlin's eyes.

"I would therefore like to ask your approval, as the head of your house, to court the Lady Hunith."

Merlin found himself speechless. It was the second time in as many years that Rodor had managed to surprise him so thoroughly. Of course, he could not object, though Hunith nearly refused Rodor's attentions, believing herself below his station. But his persistence paid off and Merlin and Mithian had been happy to see their parents married, providing one another with much-needed companionship.

Rodor had also been a great comfort to Merlin when Gaius had passed away just recently. Thinking of the physician now brought a smile to the warlock's face, rather than a frown. Gaius had said many times after Merlin and Mithian had married that he was the happiest he had been in a long while. He had been the first to examine the warlock and princess' first-born, as well as the one to suggest the babe's name. As the infant had become the symbol of magic's return, Gaius had suggested they name the boy Edryd, meaning restoration.

It seemed only fitting then that Gaius had been the first one to experience Edryd's magic. It had delighted his foster-father more than Merlin could have imagined to walk about the palace with mashed turnips splattered across his front when Edryd had magically pushed them away from himself and onto Gaius in a fit of temper. The bond between Gaius and Edryd had been a close one; not unlike Merlin's with the physician. The warlock had often wondered when Edryd was quiet and contemplative if he wasn't remembering his papa Gaius.

Of course, Merlin ought to have realized then the trouble that his son would cause. Innocent though Edryd's mischief may be, he had become known among the castle servants as Merlin's little troublemaker. Gwaine hadn't been far off the mark so many years before when he had chortled over Merlin freezing disobedient children in place before they could scamper across the whole castle entirely in the buff. Mithian had laughed the hardest though, when Edryd had turned the tables on his father and froze the warlock momentarily when Merlin had been in pursuit of the giggling little boy. Gaius had been hardly sympathetic at the time. When Merlin had gone to his mentor for advice, soaked to the bone from Edryd's newly gained magical skills (it was a long story), the elderly man had simply laughed and muttered something about the apple not falling far from the tree. It was fortunately, another memory of his mentor that brought a fond smile to Merlin's face.

Daegal had stepped up admirably as the official Court Physician. Helping Daegal from time to time had also helped Merlin to heal after his foster-father had passed, but by now the young man was beyond the warlock's medical skills and was well known throughout the kingdom as a fine physician.

Anwyl had proved, though young, to be a worthy leader for the people of Wessex. King Olaf even consented to Anwyl's marrying the Lady Vivian, despite their age difference, when the young prince-king succeeded in breaking the love spell that had nearly driven Vivian mad. Anwyl and Vivian now jointly presided over Wessex and Bergen, while Olaf gladly looked suspiciously upon any young boy who so much as dared to glance at his lovely granddaughter.

Queen Annis had also recently stepped down, conferring the crown of Caerleon upon her son, though she regularly advised him and traveled frequently to Camelot as his emissary. Each time she came, Merlin gladly juggled for her.

King Odin had grown ill in the last year; his only heir was long dead. He had approached Gavin and Elena recently with the prospect of joining Meredor under their rule as well, considering their close relationship with King Arthur.

Essetir was still under Lot's leadership; he had recently begun to negotiate with Bayard for the hand of the Mercian king's daughter. Thus, Albion was growing ever more united as the years moved onwards.

"Da?"

Merlin looked up from the book he was trying to read as he reminisced and smiled at the sight of his young son standing in the doorway.

"What is it Balinor?"

"I can't sleep."

"Of course you can. You just need to relax and clear your mind."

"Can't I have another story?"

"Balinor, your father has already told you three stories tonight. You need to go to sleep, young man."

"But mum," Balinor whined, looking hopefully at his father. He well knew that he had his mother's eyes which, more often than not, allowed him to convince his father to give in.

"Mum is right," Merlin agreed, doing his best to ignore Balinor's wide, pleading brown eyes. "I've got an early meeting with Arthur in the morning so I need to get to bed soon, too."

"Are you going to have your way with Mum?"

"Excuse me?!" Merlin exclaimed, even as Mithian's mouth dropped open in shock and she reflexively covered the ears of the babe she was feeding.

"Where did you hear that, Balinor?" Mithian asked, trying not to laugh at the way Merlin's ears burned bright red. Even after ten years of marriage, he still blushed rather vividly.

"Uncle Gwaine said it to Uncle Elyan. I don't know why. Something about working on a passel of dark haired children?" Balinor asked, his nose wrinkling in confusion.

"I should have known," Merlin managed, covering his face with his hands and forgetting his book entirely.

"Balinor, I don't want to hear you repeating that again, now off to bed with you, and don't wake your brothers."

"Fine," Balinor said, turning around and trudging off as slowly as he could manage.

"It seems I need to remind Gwaine to watch what he says in front of the children."

"You have to admit, 'having your way with mum' is a lot more mild than what Gwaine said in front of Amhar. I thought Gwen was going to faint when Amhar repeated it in front of your mother."

"Yes, it's about time that Gwaine was reminded that five year olds can hear as well as speak."

"I suppose it is. You never answered the question though," Mithian mused.

"What question?" Merlin asked, looking at Mithian in confusion.

"Are you going to have your way with me?" She asked innocently, enjoying how Merlin's face turned red before he wordlessly banished his book back to the shelf and stood, taking their one-year-old daughter from Mithian's arms.

"Aelwen is asleep then?"

"As you see," Mithian replied, smiling at the tender way Merlin smoothed the dark curls away from their little girl's face.

"I'll just put her in her cradle then," Merlin said, smirking at Mithian as she stood and sauntered enticingly towards their bed.

A few moments later, Merlin pulled the thick drapes around the nursery alcove and made sure he thought a locking spell towards the door before he joined his wife.

* * *

"It's too early in the morning to have these kinds of meetings," Gwaine groaned as he trudged into the king's private council room the next morning with Elyan and Percival.

"Perhaps you're just getting a bit too old to be spending all night in the tavern," Arthur said, grinning at his knight's disgruntled expression.

"I'll never be too old," Gwaine retorted, grinning over his shoulder as Merlin entered the room next. "Isn't that right my friend?"

"I learned a long time ago to never blankly agree with you until I know what I'm agreeing to," Merlin argued.

"To spend the night in the tavern, of course!"

"Gwaine, I'm not going to agree to that, especially when I heard about the conversation that my five year old son overheard between you and Elyan."

"Which one was that?"

"Oh, nothing much, just the one that prompted him to ask me last night whether I was going to have my way with Mithian!"

Not even Arthur was able to hold in his laughter at Merlin's sputtering indignation. Leon walked into the room to the sight of Merlin with his hands planted on his hips and the others bent over the table in near hysterics.

"What did I miss?" He asked, though it was a couple minutes before Gwaine was able to answer.

"I can't believe you said that where Balinor could hear you!" Merlin protested.

"Well mate, it's true! How many kids have you got now? There's Edryd, oh so like his father, and Gwalchmi- fine lad, that one, and little Balinor, oh so like his mother! But we can't forget delightful little Carwen, apple of her grandmother's eye, and lovely little Aelwen!" Gwaine crowed, ticking them off on his fingers as he went. "Five!"

"And your point being?"

"Arthur has three! Even Leon, who has been married nearly as long as you and Mithian, has just two! "

"Almost three, my wife is due any day now!" Leon interjected proudly.

"I've got two fine lads," Elyan said with a grin.

"That's true, and you've been married just four summers," Gwaine said, turning to his fellow knight. "You're almost as besotted as Merlin here."

"I wasn't going to say anything yet," Percival began, "But I suppose if we're talking about children... Aneira and I are going to welcome our first come spring."

"Congratulations!" Leon crowed, enthusiastically shaking Percival's hand, as the well wishes were echoed by all.

"Perhaps someday you'll have as many as Merlin," Gwaine teased. "You've got a ways to go to catch up with his passel, though."

"You're just jealous, Gwaine," Arthur insisted.

"Nope. I'll leave the rearing of little ones to you ladies. I'm much too young and virile to settle down yet," the knight teased.

"How is it _we're_ the ones with wives, and _we're _the ladies? I'd think that my wife and 'passel' as you insist on referring to them proves quite thoroughly that I am not a girl!" Merlin argued, which made Arthur's face wrinkle with disgust even as Gwaine's face went blank and Elyan and Percival's laughter renewed.

"Gentlemen," Arthur's voice rang out, cutting their merriment short as the king's tone signaled that the time for seriousness was at hand. "As hilarious as Merlin's argument is, we have serious matters to discuss."

A more somber tone settled over the group. Even Gwaine settled down, his hangover forgotten.

"I've just received troubling news from King Gavin and Queen Elena. A Saxon scouting party landed on the shores of Nemeth-Gawant six days past. Gavin's men were able to push them back, but I fear that it won't be the last."

"It's been a good ten years," Gwaine drawled, leaning back in his chair and smiling impertinently when Arthur scowled at the knight's boots on the table. "I suppose it couldn't last forever. Looks like things are about to get interesting again."

"What of King Anwyl and Queen Vivian? Have they reported any such disturbances on their shores?" Merlin asked.

"Not that we've heard, though I fear it is only a matter of time. I believe that Albion will soon be under threat of Saxon invasion."

"Then we will be ready for them. This is what our efforts of peace and uniting Albion have been all about. We will prevail," Merlin said, to nods all around.

"Has Mordred returned from his latest journey to the Druids yet?" Arthur asked.

Merlin's first apprentice had proved to be an excellent student and friend over the course of his tutelage; it had been a source of immense satisfaction for the warlock, thwarting Mordred's supposed fate. In the years since, the Druid-born knight had proved to be a valuable asset as an envoy between Arthur, Merlin and the Druids. In fact, it was during the course of these travels that Mordred had been reunited with Sefa, who had faithfully remained with the tribe that had taken her in at Arthur's request. Mordred and Sefa had struck up an instant friendship which had then blossomed into love. They had married in Druid tradition just two years after the peace treaty. It had been an historic event; as far as the eldest Druid could remember, it was the first such ceremony to be attended by the king and queen of Camelot as well as more than a dozen knights.

"He and Sefa planned to return this afternoon," Merlin answered.

"Good. Elyan, I want you and Mordred to go to Nemeth-Gawant and promise Gavin and Elena our support. Gwaine? You and Percival will do the same for Anwyl and Vivian."

"We'll leave as soon as possible," Elyan promised, and the king smiled gratefully.

"For the love of Albion," Arthur murmured, which his men repeated.

* * *

Arthur stood at the battlements at dawn two days later, watching his most trusted knights leave the city on their assignments when Merlin emerged from the tower door and quietly stepped up beside him. The king grunted in greeting, and the warlock nodded in reply, their many years of friendship making words unnecessary.

"Been up here long?" Merlin asked a moment later, chafing his hands together against the early morning chill.

"A bit," Arthur replied, his brow furrowed in thought.

"You're worried for them," Merlin stated, fully aware of Arthur's mood.

"As I always am," the king replied.

"They will be fine," the warlock reassured.

"Will they?" Arthur murmured.

"What is it? You've not been this concerned in years."

"It's probably nothing, really. Just something Gwaine said the other day."

"Gwaine? He says a lot, though I don't know what he has said that would have you so unsettled."

"Are we getting too old for this?" Arthur asked after a moment of silence. Merlin bit his tongue to keep a chortle from escaping.

"That last hole in your belt bothering you that much?" Merlin asked, unable to help himself.

"I have not added any new holes to this belt in five years!" Arthur argued, much to his advisor's amusement.

"Arthur, holey belts aside, you are still fighting fit, as are your knights. What made you think such a thing?"

"Fighting fit, yes, but the years are starting to show, my friend. Even Gwaine has started to gray a bit at the temples, though I'm pretty sure I saw him pulling them out, vain man that he is," Arthur explained. "Leon was complaining the other day of his back not liking the forest floor so much any more and Elyan's knee has never been quite the same since Amhar tackled him last year."

"We have a lot of years left in us, Arthur. Yes, we are aging, as everyone does, but you're only thirty-eight," Merlin said, his tone sobering.

"You're not though," the king said curiously.

"What?" Merlin asked, shaking his head in confusion. "You know I don't know my exact birth date, but I believe we established many years ago that I'm at least two years younger than you, so of course I'm not thirty eight."

"You are still an idiot, Merlin. I mean you haven't _aged_. Have you glanced in the looking glass lately? If you've aged a day since I made you my advisor, I'd be very surprised. Not a gray hair or a wrinkle in sight."

"Of course I've aged," Merlin argued. "I have a grey hair right here," the warlock said, gesturing vaguely to the still-dark hair above his ears.

"No, you haven't," Arthur said, his tone souring. Merlin raised an eyebrow and smirked at his king.

"Are you jealous? Is Gwaine not alone in his vanity?"

"Then you admit you haven't aged!" Arthur exclaimed triumphantly.

"I didn't say that," Merlin backpedaled.

"Is it the magic?" Arthur asked, his tone curious once more.

"Perhaps it is," Merlin allowed, not really eager to share the potential longevity that he had before him.

"It must be. Gaius was the oldest man I've ever really known. It was amazing how healthy he seemed, even though he had likely seen close to eighty summers."

"He was eighty-two summers when he passed," Merlin said, a fond smile on his lips.

"Exactly. He lived longer than any I've ever known. I've seen what you'll look like as an old man, and an old woman for that matter, and I can't help but think that I'll be long gone before I ever see you look like that naturally."

Merlin had no reply to that; it was most likely true, but losing his best friend to age was not something that he liked to dwell on. Nor did he want to burden his friends with the prospect.

"Come to think of it," Arthur suddenly blurted. "Mithian hasn't really changed either. Gwen was just commenting how nice it must be to have no wrinkles to speak of."

"Gwen? What wrinkles?" Merlin asked.

"Around her eyes, and she was rather harsh on the lines around her mouth, though I said that they merely showed how much she smiled so beautifully, and how happy she was."

"I'm sure you managed to get into her good graces with that one. For once."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur protested, much to Merlin's amusement. It was common knowledge among the king's inner circle that he frequently put his foot in his mouth and that Merlin was often tasked with helping him remove it.

"Of course, Sire," Merlin replied.

"Oh, go find your wife, you're just mocking me now."

"As you wish, Sire," Merlin said, bowing before running for the door with Arthur following in his wake.

* * *

It was not long before another pair of Saxon ships arrived in Albion. Arthur's prediction held true, and the second scouting expedition landed in Anwyl's territories. Gwaine and Percival had rather fortuitously been there with a small contingent of soldiers from Camelot. With the additional manpower, Anwyl and Vivian's army was successful in repelling the invading force.

However, Gwaine received a minor injury during the battle, which he brushed off as not worth the trouble. Percival suspected otherwise, and thus wasn't surprised when his fellow knight became feverish on the journey back to Camelot.

"You can't travel like this," Percival said, shaking his head in fond exasperation at his fellow knight.

"Please, this is nothing," Gwaine murmured, as though his face wasn't too pale and streaked with sweat.

"Before we left Camelot, Mordred mentioned that there was a Druid camp near here. They'll have a good healer with them, certainly," Percival said.

"Who needs a healer?" Gwaine protested.

"You do, obviously," Percival chuckled as the knight ineffectually struggled to sit up.

"Corris went to scout for them about an hour ago. He should be back soon."

"Uh huh," Gwaine replied, his eyes closing in exhaustion.

The next thing Gwaine knew, he was waking up in an unfamiliar tent.

"Percival?" he called out groggily, then sat up and rubbed a hand down his face. "Perc?"

"He returned with your forces to the citadel three days ago," a soft, soothing voice answered.

"What?" Gwaine asked, his head turning quickly to find the owner of the voice. His breath left him in a rush when he saw the woman. She had deep, fiery red hair and piercing green eyes set within an oval face. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Which, considering the number of women he had seen, was very impressive indeed.

"Am I dead?" he asked finally, and the woman's brows furrowed at the question.

"No, you are not dead, obviously, as you are sitting here, speaking to me," she answered, her voice colored with a lilting northern accent.

"Forgive me," Gwaine replied, putting on what he hoped was his most charming smile. "I assumed that I must have died, for you are truly an angel."

The woman's eyebrow rose incredulously, obviously unimpressed. Gwaine's grin faltered only slightly.

"How many women have you tried to woo with that one?"

"None," Gwaine denied quickly. The woman didn't seem convinced. "I've never seen such beauty; shall I call you Angel?"

A small smile twitched at the corner of the woman's mouth.

"I'll tell my father you're awake. He's the healer of this camp. And no, you may not call me Angel."

Gwaine's face fell in disappointment as he watched the woman duck to move through the flap of the tent. His hope was reignited, however, when she paused in the entrance and threw an impish smile in his direction.

"But you may call me Talaith."

For three weeks, Gwaine stayed at the Druid camp; perhaps a bit longer than his recovery truly required, but he had been smitten. Talaith had been equal parts impish and serious. She saw right through Gwaine's attempts to woo her, but didn't refuse his attentions either. It was her father, though, who really surprised the knight as they sat beside the fire.

"Talaith is a patient woman."

"Pardon?" Gwaine asked, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"My daughter is a very patient woman, but she's tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your arse."

Gwaine's mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged in shock, unable to comprehend the words that the calm healer had just casually used.

"What?!"

"What are your intentions towards my daughter, Sir Knight?" the healer asked, meeting Gwaine's stunned eyes.

"Uh," the knight said gracelessly.

"I thought as much. Our clan leader can marry you in the morning. You are well enough to be on your way now, and Talaith will be happy to go with you."

"What?" Gwaine asked, unable to iterate anything more complex.

"Go to Talaith, you will understand."

Gwaine nodded wordlessly, and ambled towards the river where Talaith had gone to bathe an hour earlier. He came upon her as she was squeezing the water from her long, red hair, her pale green dress bringing out the green fire of her eyes.

"Gwaine?" she asked, her brow wrinkling as she watched him stumble to a stop just feet away from her.

"Marry me," he blurted out, completely shocked by the words that he hadn't consciously meant to say. A smile stretched across Talaith's face.

"Found your way out of your arse then?"

"Wha?" Gwaine asked his confusion evident.

"Oh, shut up," Talaith said, stepping forward and grabbing Gwaine, pressing her lips against his as her hands wound their way into his hair.

Thus, Gwaine found himself standing before Talaith the next morning, the both of them dressed in simple, homespun linens. Talaith smiled, radiant beneath her crown of leaves and flowers. Gwaine barely felt the garland the Druid elder bound their hands together with, and wasted no time in kissing his new wife as soon as the handfasting was complete.

The two of them took their time traveling to Camelot, though neither of them minded sharing Gwaine's horse. As they entered the courtyard, the knight's eyes widened and a red tinge flushed his cheeks as he realized that Arthur had arranged a formal welcome. The king and queen stood front and center, Merlin and Mithian flanking them to the right, and the knights arranged on either side. Gwaine tried his hardest to give off a cool, unconcerned attitude, but he sighed in defeat when he heard Talaith's soft snicker and saw Merlin's triumphant grin.

"Gwaine, would you care to introduce us to your companion?" Arthur asked amiably, not missing the glee that Merlin was doing nothing to hide.

"Of course, Sire," Gwaine said, hopping down from his horse and turning to assist Talaith down as well. The two of them intertwined their fingers and turned towards the assembled gathering. "This is Talaith, my wife."

Merlin was glad of the chance to finally return the teasing the roguish knight had mercilessly heaped upon him, especially when it soon became apparent that Talaith was with child. Merlin's triumph doubled when the Druid woman was safely delivered of twin girls, their fiery curls just as vibrant as their mother's. Gwaine was now the one chasing after magical children.

Sometimes revenge, Merlin decided, really was sweet.

* * *

In hindsight, Merlin realized that he should have known that the year Amhar came of age and was crowned prince of Camelot would be an eventful one. It was also the year that Arthur turned fifty-five, which had left the king feeling out of sorts as Merlin could no longer hide the fact that he and Mithian weren't aging at the same rate as their friends.

"Promise me that you will look after my family after I am gone," Arthur asked beseechingly as they watched Amhar's irrepressible grin that shone far brighter than the circlet Arthur had placed upon his head only an hour previously.

"Don't be so morbid," Merlin answered. "You've got plenty of years with which to annoy me."

"Merlin."

The warlock looked seriously at Arthur. "I promise, Arthur, that I will care for your family as though they were my own."

"Thank you."

Merlin nodded his acknowledgement, grateful for the firm, comforting grip that Mithian had on his right hand. She knew how such requests from Arthur left Merlin feeling melancholy.

"Look, they're at it again," Mithian chuckled, drawing his eye to where his and Mithian's daughter, Carwen, was smiling shyly at Arthur and Gwen's youngest, Gwydre, as the young prince handed her a flower. They had both celebrated their eighteenth birthdays the previous spring and had recently developed an attachment to one another. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the sight, his protective instincts as a father of daughters flaring.

"Perhaps my family _will _be your own," Arthur teased, elbowing Merlin and laughing at the warlock's befuddled expression.

Within six months, Arthur's prediction became a reality when Prince Gwydre married Princess Carwen, officially uniting their families. Arthur was entirely too pleased with himself, Merlin decided, as he and Gwen sat in their thrones to preside over the wedding exactly as they had for Merlin and Mithian's so many years ago. Merlin had never appreciated just what a leap of faith it had been for King Rodor to walk his daughter down the aisle and give her hand to Merlin. As the two young lovers made their vows and their hands were bound in the ceremonial garland, Mithian gripped Merlin's hand and laid her head upon his shoulder, incredibly grateful for the course her life had taken in marrying a peasant-born secret warlock.

* * *

"I told you you had plenty of years left to annoy me," Merlin chided several years later as he and Arthur watched their wives coo and babble at their newest grandchildren. Though Merlin's eyes belied his true age, his face was still smooth and his hair dark. The years had made their mark known upon the king, however.

"You always did like to brag about being right," Arthur groused, chuckling as his friend smirked.

"I can't help it that I always am," Merlin teased.

"Arrogance. The folly of youth," Arthur laughed.

"I'll have you know, I am sixty-three!"

"Yet you and Mithian look thirty. What's your secret?"

"Magic," Merlin whispered conspiratorially.

It was a something that he wished he could share, especially as one by one, their friends and loyal comrades gave into their years. Then Guinevere took ill and passed away; Arthur's heart had been broken and Merlin feared that the Once and Future King would not be much longer for this earth. Amhar had long since become regent, though he refused to take his father's place as High King.

"Please, take me to the lake, Merlin," Arthur asked weakly some weeks later, and Merlin knew that the time he had dreaded for nearly sixty years had come. He and Mithian gathered their children, as well as Arthur and Gwen's and made the sojourn to the Lake of Avalon.

With his family's blessing and farewell, the High King of Albion stood as straight as he could between Merlin and Mithian's supporting arms and walked into the shallows of the lake. Instantly, his spine straightened as his attention was drawn towards a shimmering brightness emerging from the center of the lake. Three white-clad figures rose from the water and glided toward them. Merlin, Mithian and Arthur gasped as they recognised the figures; Guinevere stood in the center, her vibrant youth restored. She was smiling radiantly at Arthur. Morgana stood on her left, her beauty apparent once more and the madness cleansed from her countenance. She looked every bit the young, kindhearted woman she had been before the darkness had taken her over. On Guinevere's other side stood a woman that none but Merlin knew, but Mithian knew by reputation.

"Freya," Merlin greeted, smiling fondly.

"Merlin," she replied, returning the smile before she turned to Mithian. "Thank you for making him happy."

"It has been my pleasure," Mithian replied, nodding respectfully at the Lady of the Lake.

"Arthur," Guinevere greeted, stepping forwards towards her love. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Arthur answered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I have missed you, Guinevere."

"And I you, but our separation is no more," she said, raising her arm towards Arthur in invitation. Arthur looked to Merlin, whose eyes were welling with tears.

"Until we meet again, my friend," Merlin said, his voice tight.

"No," Arthur replied. "Until we meet again, my _brother."_

Merlin smiled and pulled Arthur into a hug before the king could protest.

"I will miss you, Arthur. I'll keep watch over our family."

"Thank you," Arthur replied, pulling back with a smile and one last nod. Then he turned towards the three luminescent women and took Guinevere's waiting hand. Instantly, his age melted away, restoring Arthur to youthful vigor. With a smile and a joyous laugh, Arthur gathered his queen into his arms and kissed her.

Morgana smiled at the sight, looking over them to meet Merlin's eye. The two former foes held one another's gaze for a second before Merlin gave one, quick nod. Morgana gave a small smile before returning the nod. Then she and Freya each laid a hand on Arthur and Guinevere's shoulders and the five of them turned and walked back towards the shining center of the lake. Just before they disappeared into the glowing column, Freya turned back and smiled at them.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Your mother and father say hello, and well done." Then she stepped into the light and was gone.

With a deep shuddering breath, Merlin smiled tremulously, welcomed Mithian's comforting embrace and murmured toward the lake, "Until we meet again, Arthur, my brother."

* * *

Merlin kept his promise; he and Mithian kept watch over theirs and Arthur's family for three more generations before Albion fell to the Saxon invasion. After they fled into the north, they kept watch over Arthur and Guinevere's descendants from a distance with the help of their own long-lived children.

But Arthur was never far from their minds, and their patience was rewarded nearly six hundred years to the day that Arthur stepped into Avalon. Merlin and Mithian had seen and felt the tremblings from the Old Religion as Avalon prepared to surrender the Once and Future king to destiny once more.

Therefore Merlin stood anxiously upon the shores with his wife, eagerly awaiting the moment he had been anticipating for six centuries. Without warning, a blinding column of white burned brightly in the center of the lake and Merlin felt like shouting in his joy. His patience was rewarded when out of the light, Arthur strode forward, Guinevere's hand held tightly within his.

The Once and Future King and Queen came to a stop, dressed in ornate clothing befitting their rank, upon the shores of Avalon. Merlin only just stopped himself from grabbing the both of them in a hug. The warlock looked to Mithian's joyous face and laughed exuberantly before turning back to his king and saying the words he had waited at long last to say.

"Welcome back, Arthur."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I've thoroughly enjoyed reading your reviews, especially those who reviewed regularly. I hope you all have enjoyed this story as much as I've loved writing it! I'd love to hear what you loved the most:)**

**Thanks again for reading,**

**ebhg:)**


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